Randoms
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: Random Glee drabbles. Mostly Faberry, Pezberry, Fapezberry. There will be mentions of Blainofsky, Klaine, Fingar (Finn/Sugar) and others.
1. Pink

_**LbN: So when J. and I get bored, we text drabbles to each other. In the interest of not clogging my page with 500 drabbles, they now have a home. I will continue some...some I won't. But I'm always open to requests! Happy reading, witches! :)**_

Quinn had walked in on some weird things during her three year relationship with Santana and Rachel, but this definitely topped all. As she strode through the door, balancing 2 pizza boxes on her shoulder, she spotted Santana duct taped to a chair. There were colored streamers hanging from the ceiling, pink most prominent among them. Rachel was in the kitchen, whistling happily as she did the dishes. Quinn walked slowly through the living room, taking it all in. She glanced at Santana, who glared and made muffled noises behind her scarf gag. They could only be pleas for release, but the blonde had long since learned not to get in the middle of her two girlfriends.

"Rae?"

"Oh, hello Quinn! Did you have a satisfactory day in class?" Rachel asked, giving her a kiss.

"Er…yeah. Mind filling me in on why the living room looks like Party City broke in and executed a hostage situation?"

"It's color therapy."

"More." Over the years, they'd developed a sort of conversational shorthand. "More" was Quinn's way of saying "Please elaborate before my head explodes."

"She was making fun of how much pink I had in my wardrobe," Rachel explained. "A brief, yet epic battle took place, and now I'm demonstrating the calming effects of a splash of pink."

Quinn glanced back into the living room. It wasn't so much a splash of pink as a flood of it, and Santana looked nowhere even in the vicinity of calm. "I'll just…go let her out for dinner, shall I?"

"Thank you, Quinn. I'll set the table."

Santana said nothing when Quinn let her out, but did seem to take an evil pleasure in ripping down the streamers on the way to the kitchen.


	2. Safe

Santana and Rachel knew there was something wrong when they caught their son, Keegan, hoarding food.

"Just snacks!" he insisted, refusing to hand over the backpack full of peanut butter sandwiches, Cheetos and juice boxes. "I don't like getting up at night. It's dark."

And that sort of made sense. Keegan was notoriously afraid of the dark. What didn't make sense is why he need so much, or why he looked so scared.

"Buddy, is everything okay?" Santana asked gently.

"Fine!" he answered, way too quickly. "I'll just go do my homework now."

Rachel was about to call for the bag again, but Santana put a hand on her arm.

"Wait. We'll just see. It might be nothing."

So they let it drop for a while, but kept an eye on his food intake. He didn't seem sick, and he wasn't sneaking backpacks of sandwiches every night. Rachel didn't even think he was eating the food himself.

"Then who is?" Santana asked. She sighed. "If you think it's not him, then maybe we should just wait for him to come to us with what's going on."

"A few more days," Rachel agreed.

They would've stuck to that plan, too, had Rachel not noticed something that night. As she carted a load of laundrey to the spare bedroom for folding, she saw no light coming from under Keegan's door. She quickened her pace and went to fetch her wife. She found Santana in their library, slamming back a Coke and grading midterm papers.

"I swear they get dumber every year," she grunted. Then, catching sight of Rachel's worried expression, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"He's turned his nightlight off!"

"Maybe…he's grown out of it?" she suggested, not sounding at all convinced herself.

"He grew out of it extremely quickly in that case," Rachel said.

"I'll go check on him."

She walked down the hall to the 10 year old's room, wondering what the hell was going on. She was so lost in her thoughts that when she entered, she nearly broke her ankle tripping over someone who was most definitely not her son. "Ow! What's going on?"

The little girl had woken up and scrambled to the other side of the room. Keegan woke up as well and, after a second of confusion, realized what was happening.

"I can explain!" he said.

"I sure hope so," Rachel told him, surveying the scene.

"What's your name, honey?" Santana asked the girl.

"M-madison…" the girl whispered.

"She's in my class," Keegan said. "She just moved here from Columbus. She has to stay here!" he insisted.

"I'm sure your parents are very worried, sweetie," Rachel said. "We need to call them."

"NO!" both kids shouted.

"No, she can't go back. He'll hurt her again!"

Rachel and Santana shared a glance. "Who?" Santana asked, kneeling down next to them. "It's okay, honey; you're safe. Who's going to hurt you if you go back?"

There was a pause as Madison glanced back and forth from Keegan to his moms. "My dad…."

"What's his name?"

"…Russell Fabray…."


	3. Hangover

**Random Hangover**

Rachel dug into her waffles and surveyed the living room with amusement. She'd gotten back from her trip at six in the morning, and she'd found drunken partiers passed out all over the place. She'd rolled her eyes and made her way to the kitchen to start breakfast. She'd been surprised to see seven half empty bottles of vodka littering the counter. They had apparently been flavored with Skittles.

"Long night?" she asked as Santana and Quinn woke up and shuffled into the kitchen.

"Eurgh…."

"I'm never letting Q bartend again."


	4. Cravings

**Random Cravings**

Santana ran to the door, pulling on a sweater. "I'm coming!" she yelled. Wrenching it open, she found a rain-drenched Finn standing on her mat. He looked ready to cry. "Finn? What the fuck? It's two in the morning!"

"I need your help," he said desperately.

"What's wrong? Is Sugar okay?" she asked, suddenly panicking over their pregnant friend.

"Fine, fine," Finn said, holding up his hands. "But she's having…er…a craving."

"For?"

"Your tamales and Rachel's strawberry lemonade."

Santana doubled over laughing.

"It's not funny!" he whined, following her into the house. "She beat me with a pillow until I got up. How someone so big—er, I mean, so…much with child," he corrected himself slowly, "can move that fast, I'll never know."

"You're hilarious. And you'll have to get Rachel up yourself. She's scary when you interrupt her sleep."

He grumbled but made his way upstairs to beg for further assistance.

Santana just chuckled as she pulled one of the canisters out of the freezer. She was glad she made extra at their last cookout….


	5. Greece

**Random Greece**

Quinn smiled as she went through their pictures from the Temple of Lisistrata. She wasn't exactly thrilled to be sick on the tail end of their honeymoon, but at least she had something to do to keep her occupied. She flinched as Rachel stuck the thermometer in her ear for the eighth time that hour.

"101," she mumbled, frowning at Quinn. "Are you sure—"

"Don't even finish that," Quinn said. "You and Santana have been looking forward to this jazz festival all week. I'll be fine for a couple of hours. I'm just going to chill and edit pictures."

"No," Santana said. "You're going to sleep."

"We both have our phones on," Rachel said. "Please call if you need anything? Or if you start feeling worse?"

"I will. Promise. Now go have fun." She blew them a kiss as they left and went back to her pictures.


	6. LOL, Smiley Face

**LOL, Smiley Face**

_What are you wearing?_

… _**why? : ) **_

_Come on…you know why…._

_**You first.**_

_My purple argyle skirt that you love so much. And that's it…._

_**Sexy. How about you take that off too. **_

"Honey!"

Rachel jumped about a mile and scooted further under her comforter. "Yeah, Dad?" she squeaked.

"Finn just dropped by," Hiram called through the door. "He said he's sorry he can't hang out, but he's putting in an extra shift at the garage so he can pay for a new phone."

"New phone?"

"Yeah. Apparently there was an incident with a glass of Snapple and a very excitable Doberman…. Anyway, he says he'll swing by tomorrow afternoon."

"Uh…okay."

_**Naked yet.**_

_No. Um…who is this?_

…_**Are you for real right now, Berry?**_

_Omg, QUINN?_

_**Uh, yeah. Did you seriously not know it was me?**_

_Were you seriously just sexting me?_

_**Bitch, you started it! ~S**_

_Santana's there too?!_

_**Do you normally just pick random numbers in your phone and make with the horny?**_

_I must have hit your number by mistake. Stupid touch screen…._

_**For god's sake, please tell me that wasn't for Finn!**_

_Well, we are dating._

_**Only technically. You're dating him. He's dating everyone. And you're giving in to this whole "Open Relationship" b.s. just so you don't lose him. ~S**_

_**You shouldn't be…. ~Q**_

_And why is that exactly?_

_**Tell you what…come over, and we'll show you.**_

Rachel stared down at her phone for a minute. "Daddy? Dad? I'm going over to a friend's house!" she called.


	7. Bunny Slopes

**Bunny Slope**

Santana waddled out to the snowy hill and sat down on a bench to wait for Quinn. They'd decided to spend Christmas as just the two of them that year, instead of getting together with their extended Gleeky family. Breckenridge, Colorado had been amazing, and she knew she wasn't going to want to leave in a week.

"All set!" Quinn chirped.

"What's that?" Santana asked.

"A…snowboard. Why?"

"Since when do you snowboard?"

"Since forever, you goober," Quinn said, laughing. "What is it?"

"How did I not know this?"

"Blame Russell," her girlfriend said. "See, he wanted me to learn to ski. Proper privileged white girl activity. But…and I don't remember how, but somehow I got a hold of a snowboard. And the only thing that ever trumped expectation in our house was sheer god-given talent. Still, I had to keep it on lock. Wasn't winning any trophies or things he could brag about, so the talent was useless and unladylike."

Santana stood gaping at her, then bent down to take off her skiis.

"What the hell? We're all ready to go!" Quinn whined.

"Fuck that noise. You're teaching me how to snowboard. I can't let you be that much more badass than me, Blondie."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Fine, but we're starting on the bunny slopes."


	8. Here to Stay

**Here to Stay**

Santana dodged the bright pink soccer ball that went whizzing past her head. She counted to ten before retrieving it, and rolling it back to the 8-year-old. "Here you go," she said, trying not to sound annoyed.

"Patti, knock it off," Rachel snapped, coming out with a tray of veggies. She sat them on the grill stand and hugged Santana. "Hey…I'm sorry."

"I think your kid hates me…."

"She's just not used to sharing me. It's just been us two since Finn left."

"Well, let's hope she gets used to it soon. I'm definitely here to stay."

Rachel grinned, and both of them ducked as the pink ball came soaring towards their heads again.


	9. Getaway

**Getaway**

The leaves of the palm tree scraping against the window were what woke Quinn. She shifted with a grunt and pulled her giant eraser from underneath her. Pens and papers were scattered across the bed and floor from where she'd fallen asleep working. With a yawn, she set about collecting everything. There was a knock at the door as she stacked the pages of her novel onto her desk. Grabbing her robe, she shuffled to the door and glanced out the spyhole.

"Santana?" she asked, pulling the door open.

"Morning, Q. I brought bagels."

"What the…how did you even know I was here?"

"I just thought to myself 'hmmm…if I were a multimillionaire author who just got dumped by a hobbit, where would I go to mope?' Hawaii seemed like the most logical answer, and I already know you're code name. So I just called around to all the swanky hotels, asking for Miss Desiree Spicer."

Quinn sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"Fulfilling my duties as your bestie by making sure you eat, and that your next novel doesn't turn into a cheap Twilight knockoff due to breakup angst."

The blonde managed a small smile at this. "Well, seeing as you brought breakfast, I guess you can stay."

"Damn right. Let's watch some bad made for TV movies and you can tell me about your book."


	10. Pillow Fight

**Pillow Fight**

The girls had agreed to rent a cabin with Santana and Brittany over the Christmas break. Due to an early arrival of snow, however, S and B were stuck in a hotel at the bottom of the mountain for the night.

Rachel had just put some orange slices in the pot of apple cider when she was hit on the butt with something fluffy.

"Quinn Fabray!"

Quinn stood there with the pillow, grinning brightly. "I demand attention," she said. "You're neglecting me for your recipes again."

"I'm simply ensuring that we have a warm—ack!" she yelped when Quinn hit her again. "Woman!"

* * *

When Santana and Brittany got there the next day, they found the other two curled up on the living room floor, feathers strewn all over the place.

"We can't take them anywhere," Santana muttered.


	11. Get Well Soon

**Get Well Soon**

As the group of Slytherins trouped through Hogsmeade, one of them trailed behind for a moment.

"You guys go ahead," Rachel said. "I'll catch up."

"Don't be too long, Berry," one of her friends called. "We're meeting the Puffs at the Shrieking Shack."

She waited until they were out of sight before popping into Honeydukes.

Florence Fortescue (daughter of Florian, of course) smiled at her when she entered. "Good afternoon, dear. Anything I can help you find?"

"Do you have any more of the vanilla sugar quills?"

"Just got some in this morning, in fact," the older witch said, leading her to the far wall.

Rachel bought a couple of boxes and some Chocolate Frogs before leaving to meet her friends.

* * *

When she made it up to the hospital wing just before dinner, Santana was asleep. She rearranged the flowers on the Gryffindor's bedside so she could set her gifts down. Smiling fondly at the Quidditch footie pajamas, she checked to make sure no one was around, and leaned down to kiss her secret girlfriend.

"Feel better soon," she whispered.

"Dragonpox sucks," Santana muttered, eyes still closed.

Rachel smiled. "I'll come back after dinner."


	12. Cookout

**Cookout**

Santana tried to wave the smoke away from her eyes as she grilled the burgers for their Fourth of July party. She turned, hearing the back door slam, and immediately started laughing.

Rachel was standing there with their three-year-old boy, Keegan. He was messily wrapped from head to toe in Ace bandages.

"I'm a trainer like you, Mami!" he said proudly.

"You sure are, baby boy," she said, hugging him. "Now why don't you go unwrap? You're going to want to play soccer with Lily and Little Quinn, and you can't do that all mummified."

He nodded and waddled back inside the house.

Santana grinned at Rachel, who just smiled and shook her head.

"Keep on laughing. We'll see how funny it is when he gets into your supply of Icy/Hot and protein powder."


	13. Old Memories

**Old Memories**

"Mama…why is Mommy so shiny?"

"What, baby?" Quinn asked distractedly, not looking away from her computer.

"In this picture. Why is she so shiny?"

Quinn looked over, and tried not to panic. The magazine was from years ago. Rachel had only ever done it once, and the pictures were very tasteful. Nothing too naughty was showing, but there was a level of sensuality with all of the fake sweat, and a whole lot of suggestiveness with the props the shooting director had chosen. Where the hell their daughter had found her old copy of Rachel's Playboy magazine, she'd never know.

"Uh…er…Mommy's shiny because…she'd just gone swimming."

"Why didn't they let her dry off? Where's her bathing suit?"

"I…don't remember. Why don't you let me have that?"

"And what's she doing with her Elphaba broomstick?"

"Give me that, please," Quinn croaked, taking it from her. "Um…how about we order pizza tonight?"

"Yay!" the five year old yelled. "I pick pepperoni!"

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. Subject effectively changed, for now. She just hoped it didn't come up at dinner with Santana and Brittany that weekend…..


	14. Quidditch Rivalries

**Quidditch Rivalry**

Quinn smirked as she flipped through her magazine. Santana was just finishing her hair, putting the last clip in place.

"There you are, Madame Q, High Champion of all things Quidditch," Santana grumbled.

Rachel and Brittany snorted into their pumpkin juice. Although they were allowed to sit with other houses now, that didn't mean that interhouse rivalry had dimmed one bit when it came to Quidditch.

"Thanks, S."

"Whatever. We would've won if Little Potter hadn't smacked me with that Bludger. How much longer do I have to do your bidding?"

"I believe the bet was two weeks."

"Merlin, help me…."


	15. Sick

**Sick**

Rachel didn't get it. She was a wreck when she was sick… how the hell could Santana be so calm? If it wasn't for the puking every half hour or so, she'd think her girlfriend was actually enjoying this.

Currently, Santana was relaxing on the sofa with two pair of socks on, a bottle of NyQuil open on the coffee table, and playing with a yo-yo as she read Ender's Game for the millionth time.

Rachel didn't get it….


	16. Visitor

**Visitor**

Quinn took her keys out, then hesitated. She could hear someone playing guitar inside her apartment. This was odd, seeing as she lived alone. She figured a burglar or rapist wouldn't be plucking out some tunes, but she was still debating calling security.

Then she heard the voice, and she smiled.

Entering her apartment, she called, "How exactly did you get in here, Miss Berry?"

"Bribed the doorman with lemon cookies," Rachel sang.

"Are there any left?"

"In the kitchen."

Quinn kicked her shoes off, hugged her girlfriend, and made a beeline for the kitchen. This was turning out to be a badass spring break already.


	17. Blood

**Blood**

Santana opened the door to find Quinn on their front porch, soaked with rain and…

"Oh my god," Rachel said, as Santana hurried out to help the blonde in.

Blood dripped in a steady line onto their hardwood floors as Santana carried her to the bedroom.

"Rachel, bring me my bag."

"Can't…go back…" Quinn gasped.

"Shhh…" Rachel whispered. She handed Santana her medical bag and sat next to Quinn on the bed. She ran a hand gently through the blonde's wet hair, careful in case she had any head injuries they hadn't noticed. "No one's going to make you go anywhere. You're safe here."

"She's got a lot of cuts, but nowhere dangerous," Santana muttered, mostly to herself. "Quinn? Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes."

"Can you follow my pen light?"

There was silence for a while, only broken by the thunder outside, as Santana check Quinn over and patched up as many injuries as she could.

"Do we need to take her to the hospital?" Rachel asked quietly.

"We should…. I think she may have a concussion."

"No, please," Quinn groaned. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"Q? Quinn, babe, stay awake for me just a little longer."

"Can't…go to the hospital. He'll find me."

"Who, Quinn?" Rachel asked gently.

"Three guesses," Santana muttered darkly. "Russell saw your interview, didn't he? Where you came out on the Ellen show?"

Quinn nodded, then winced. "I don't know…how he got in."

"You're going to be okay, Quinn," Rachel said fiercely. "You're going to be fine. You're safe."

"Thank you…."


	18. Park

**Park**

Rachel flopped onto the park bench, exhausted.

"Balls of energy, aren't they?" another mom commented fondly.

"Definitely."

"Which ones are yours?"

"The twins over there," Rachel answered. "Kona's got a Mohawk and Kai's got the tiny afro."

"They're precious! You and your husband must be so proud."

"My wife, actually, and we are," Rachel said with a smile.

The lady's demeanor changed just slightly. Her smile faltered for a split second. "Well…yes. They are adorable." She turned back to the other mom without another word to Rachel.

Rachel did her best not to sigh. At least the woman hadn't threatened to call the police like at the last park. Her phone rang, and she moved to the side a bit to answer it. "Hi babe!"

"Do you know how hard it is to find luau party gear in October?" Santana grumbled. "What is this fascination they have with flamingos anyway?"

Rachel grinned as she watched their sons play on the swings. "Don't ask me. I'm just glad they're over the pirate phase."

"Blame Q for that. She reads those kiddie Steampunk books to them. Anyway, I'm almost to the park. I'll see you in a bit."

"Alright. Love you."

"_Te amo."_

Rachel hit the end button just as Kona ran over to her.

"Was that Mami?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Yep! She's on her way now."

He grinned, dimples even more pronounced. "Yay! Then Breadstix?"

"Yes," Rachel laughed. "Then we'll go get Breadstix. Go on and play with your brother for a few more minutes."

"Excuse me?" the woman from earlier said. "Did I hear that correctly? Your…girlfriend is on her way?"

"My wife, and yes."

The second lady huffed. "Marriage is between a man and a woman, so you can't really call her your wife."

"Funny, because it certainly felt official to us. What with the priest and church and vows and all," Rachel said, trying to keep her temper in check.

"Well I hope you'll refrain from any inappropriate activity while our kids are here. We don't want them exposed to that sort of lifestyle." With that, they went back to talking and ignoring Rachel's presence.

She sat there speechless. Normally she was fantastic at shutting ignorance down, but this time, she couldn't muster any reply. She turned back to where her boys were playing, stewing as she eavesdropped.

"Maybe we should take them home now," Bigot #1 said.

"I wonder if it'll be obvious," Bigot #2 mused. "Some of them are just so butch…they're practically men!"

Rachel turned to deliver the verbal shanking of the century, but it turned out to be unnecessary.

Santana was walking towards them, waving at Rachel and smiling brightly. And she'd picked that day to wear the outfit Quinn and Dave had titled "The Gay Maker," because it turned all women within a ten mile radius gay for her. "Hey baby!" she called.

Rachel smirked at the astonished looks from the women beside her and, unable to help herself, planted a firm kiss on Santana when she reached her. "Ready to get out of here?" she asked.

"Mami!"

Santana was tackled by the two boys as she nodded. "Yeah. We needs our breadsticks, right men?"

Rachel laughed, threw a smirk at the two women, and followed her family out of the park.


	19. Escape

**Escape**

They all waited silently for Quinn to arrive. Blaine stared out the window, rifle at the ready just in case.

Rachel paced the room, clearly panicking. "She's late…."

"Rachel," Kurt said gently, "the key to all of this was waiting until the right moment. It may have taken her parents a while longer to fall asleep. She might have had to take a detour for some reason. She'll be here soon, I'm sure of it."

"I'm so nervous."

"At least we can say we're not bored," David said, then winced at his own words. "Sorry. I'm the inappropriate joker when I'm worried."

"I can see her!" Santana said. She was stationed at the other window. "What the fuck?""

"She's hurt," Brittany said, peering over Santana's shoulder. "Dave, go get her."

"Fuck! That's Russell's truck," Blaine said. He lifted the rifle, lining up a shot.

"No, Blaine!" Kurt said. "We have to wait. You can't just shoot at him unless she's in danger."

"Of course she's in danger!" Santana snapped.

"I've got her," Dave said, sprinting out the door.

Rachel watched from the window as the football player ran to Quinn's side. He picked her up just as the truck came to a stop and Russell stepped out with a baseball bat.

"Oh my god!"

Blaine ran from the window and out onto the front porch.

They heard two shots, and glass breaking. Dave came in a second later, carrying an unconscious Quinn. "Call the cops. I think B got him in the leg."

They all assumed he was correct, hearing Russell scream about lawsuits outside.

Blaine came in a second later, looking grim. "Should've just killed the bastard."

* * *

Rachel stayed at the hospital with Quinn for the next three days. The police had held Blaine in lockup overnight, but Mr. Anderson had bailed him out. They'd all been questioned, and once it was clear that Russell was in custody for good and wasn't going to press charges against Blaine, everyone breathed easier.

On the fourth day, Rachel came in to find Quinn glaring at a flower arrangement. "What's wrong?"

"From my mother," Quinn grumbled. "Read the note."

"Dear Quinnie," Rachel read quietly. "I'm so sorry. For everything I've done and everything I've allowed him to do. I hope you're feeling better, and that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You'll always be my little lamb. Love, Mom."

"You'd think she'd at least have the decency to wallow in guilt until I was out of the hospital before begging forgiveness," Quinn said bitterly.

Rachel walked over and kissed her. "I love you. Do you want me to take them away?"

Quinn stared at the flowers for a long moment, eyes filling with tears. Finally, she shook her head no. "But could you put them behind the others?"

Rachel did so. "Everyone says hello," she told her.

"I want to see them."

She smiled brightly and kissed the blonde again. Up to that point, Quinn had been refusing all visitors. "I'll text them to come by after lunch. You rest."

Quinn nodded and, with one last look at her flowers, closed her eyes to sleep.


	20. Alone Time

**Alone Time**

Santana watched Quinn's quill scratch across the paper. The Gryffindor was less than thrilled that they were spending their limited alone time studying, but that was the danger of dating a Ravenclaw.

"You're being rather patient tonight," Quinn remarked, smiling down at her paper.

"Not like I have a choice. I know how you get when I distract you from your homework."

"Lucky for you, I'm done! And I also happen to know that there are no prefects between here and the Room of Requirement."

"Oh really?" Santana asked as they collected their things at top speed. It was nearly curfew, and neither of their dorms was on the way to where the Room had regenerated after the Battle. It was a damn good thing if they didn't have to worry about prefects. "And how exactly do you know that?"

"A little snake told me."

"Merlin's tits…in exchange for what?"

"She promised to station all of them away from that hall if I tutored Britt in Potions."

"Brill—" Santana started, but was cut off as Quinn put a hand over her mouth and pulled her behind a statue.

Peeves was bobbing down the hall in front of them, singing a very rude Irish drinking song….

"I've got this," Santana whispered. "Stay here."

"You sure?"

"Trust me." The younger girl stood up and walked over to the poltergeist. "Evening, Peeves!" she said cheerily.

"Ooh! One of the older lions! Best be off to your common room, little kitty!"

"I was looking for you. I have a riddle."

The tiny creature's eyes lit up. "A riddle? You spoil old Peevesy!"

"And, if you answer right, I'll tell you were some of the prefects are tonight. The ones that will be…er…sleeping on the job."

Peeves cackled and clapped his hands. "Let's have it, then!"

"How is a raven like a writing desk?"

Peeves put a hand to his chin, crossed his legs in midair, and thought for a moment. After a minute, he snapped his fingers. "They both have inky quills!" he cried.

Santana grinned at him. "Second floor. Belby Junior always falls asleep against the statue of Wendlin the Weird."

He zoomed off and Quinn came out of her hiding space.

"Should I even ask how you know he likes riddles?"

"Mischievous sociopathic mythological entity? Of course he likes riddles!" Santana said. "Let's hurry."

They made it to the fourth floor and found Rachel standing in front of a portrait of two witches having tea.

"Two hours," the Head Girl said. "I'll whistle when your time's up, but you're on your own getting back."

"Thanks, R," Quinn said with a wink, and pulled Santana into the Room of Requirement.


	21. Sound

_**Part 2 after "Safe"  
**_

"Hey, Santana," Quinn said, sliding into the seat across from her. "You sounded worried on the phone. Are Rachel and Keegan okay?"

Santana nodded. "Fine. We need to talk though, and it's going to be a hard conversation. Hence the alcohol," she said, indicating their drinks.

"What's going on? You're kind of freaking me out."

Santana sighed. "When was the last time you heard from Russell?"

Quinn's eyes got wide for a second. "God, it's been years. Child support stopped the second I turned 18, and mom didn't ever talk about him. Last I heard, he'd married some secretary and moved to Columbus. Why?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Why, Santana?"

"You have a sister. Half-sister who's 10 years old."

Quinn stared at her. "I'm…kind of lost, so keep going."

Santana recounted what had happened the night before.

"Where is she now?"

"Our house. We called the police and a social worker came out this morning. Luckily, the school already had some suspicions, and had been documenting things. Since we're approved to take in foster kids, they let her stay. Though, as soon as this conflict of interest comes up," she said, pointing back and forth between herself and Quinn, "they might make her move."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Restaurant patrons buzzed around them, but neither of them was in the mood to people watch that night.

"Do you want to meet her?" Santana asked.

"More than anything."

* * *

The resemblance was striking. The only difference was that Madison had blue eyes instead of green. But they bore the same haunted look that Quinn's did. It was painful to watch. The older blonde had knelt next to her sister and scooped her into her arms without a word. The pair of them cried on the couch for a few minutes before talking in hushed tones.

"We're not letting her go back to him," Rachel whispered to Santana.

"Not a chance in hell."


	22. Demon Instrument

**Demon Instrument **

"Ow!"

Quinn looked up from her X-Men comic to where Rachel was attempting to tune their daughter's violin. "Should've let her play the sax, like she wanted," the blond said, smirking. "At least that wouldn't run the risk of getting whipped every day."

Rachel huffed, then turned to their daughter, Megan. "Do you still want to play the sax?" she grumbled.

Megan nodded eagerly.

"Then let's go return this demon instrument and go to the band store."


	23. Accepted

**Accepted**

Quinn and the kids were roasting pumpkin seeds when Rachel came in with the mail. She smiled and sat down to sort it, listening to Quinn's playful argument with their oldest son, Henry.

"Pork rinds are healthier," the blonde said.

"Come on, Momma," the 18 year old said, laughing. Once you get into the realm of fried and or dehydrated snacks, arguing health is pointless."

"Well—"

"Henry, what's this?" Rachel asked, holding up a large envelope.

His eyes got wide as he took it from her. "Oh my god… it's Oxford."

"He applied to Oxford?" Rachel asked Quinn. "When did this happen?"

"I GOT IN!" the boy bellowed.

"Wait, what the Shrek?" his brother asked, taking the letter. "You can't be that smart. You still forget to flush the toilet, for crying out loud."

"Sasha, be nice," Quinn said, beaming. "We should be proud of him."

"I feel woozy… my little boy, crossing the Atlantic for four years?"

"Six, actually. It's a dual BA/MA program."

"Going to faint."

"You do that. I'm going to call Auntie Tana and Uncle Puck."

"You can't be okay with this," Rachel said to Quinn when Henry had run upstairs.

"Let me tell you a story about a little girl from a small town, who moved to New York City all on her own to conquer Broadway."

"That's different! I was mature! He's…he's my baby," Rachel said, tearing up a bit.

"Hey," Quinn told her, wrapping her in a hug. "He's your baby, but he's not A baby anymore. It's his decision where he goes, and we need to support him."

"Okay, you two, knock it off with all the 7th Heaven drama," Sasha said, grabbing a jar of pickles out of the fridge. "I'm right here, and you're putting me off my lunch."

Both women rolled their eyes.


	24. Allergy

**Allergy**

Snow had been falling since early the previous evening. They were due to leave the children's hospital the next day, so Rachel was glad it hadn't been a blizzard. Their past two days had been long ones, and all she wanted to do was take their daughter home.

It had started with a phone call. Santana had gotten a call at her gym, saying some boys had put peanuts on Addison's sandwich, and that she'd been airlifted to St. Edmund's Children's Hospital. Then there was the slew of police, and reporters who wanted to get their take on bullying in today's schools. And the waiting…. Addy had almost died.

The waiting….

"Mommy, I feel okay," the eight-year-old said, sensing Rachel's distress.

"Good," Rachel said, smiling. "You ready to—" she was cut off by Addy's gasp.

"Mommy! It's Spiderman!" she shouted.

Rachel turned to the window, and sure enough, scraping snow and ice off of it was Spiderman.

"Oh, that guy's a BAMF," Santana said, entering the room. "Right! Good news kiddo, they're cutting you loose!"

"Finally!" Addy said.

"Let's get you ready to go home."


	25. Free Form

_**LbN: For context- free form is a style of role playing that's basically a play w/o a script. Each person in the game has a character (ex. a witch who's got a crippling fear of marshmallows) and certain missions they have to accomplish by the end of the game (ex. must find a sidekick and vanquish bandits in their area. Must barter with the merchants for a new cat, etc.). Chaos of the most epic variety always ensues as the completely unscripted story unfolds. :)**_

Rachel gazed into the wooded area, holding the lantern higher to read the sign. She needed to get to the castle before another one of her "fits" came on. She chose the path to the left and began her journey through the forest.

Finn popped out at her at the next fork in the path. He was making the classic "I'm a bear" gesture, with his hands in claws next to his ears. His nametag read "Hello, my name is: Ogre #2".

Shuffling through the cards in her pack, she found the one she was searching for and tossed it at him.

He caught it and gave her a quizzical look. "Since when do damsels in distress get crossbows?"

"Since when do ogres talk?"

"Since Shrek!"

At that moment, Santana rushed up from out of the trees and started beating Finn over the head with a foam sword. "I'll save you, fair maiden!"

Rachel's watch beeped. "Ajskjkjdfijf! Ooskskjfdljfiummabmama! Mama say mama sah mama kusa!"

The other two stopped their play fight.

"The fuck?" Santana asked.

As Rachel continued chanting in gibberish, Quinn rolled up on a Segway that had a wagon hitched to the back of it.

"Tally ho!" she yelled, putting Rachel in the wagon and driving off. "Onward, noble steed!"

"That's their idea of a horse?"

"Come back with my damsel, damnit!"

* * *

"Wait," Burt said, "Do I have this right? Rachel was a damsel in distress who spoke in tongues every 15 minutes…Finn was an ogre, and Santana was the knight trying to rescue the damsel?"

"Right," Rachel confirmed.

"Sounds like you guys' senior year at McKinley," Carol muttered.

"Then what the hell was Quinn?" Hiram asked, still laughing.

"Robin Hood," Quinn said. "But along with stealing money, I had to steal the damsel."

"Which put a damper on my mission to make it to the castle and get the Sorceress to lift the curse," Rachel said.

"And that screwed up MY mission," Mercedes chimed in. "Because I was supposed to do that in exchange for the Golden Apple she was carrying."

"You wouldn't have gotten it anyway," Dave said. "I stole that from her in the beginning. I was a peasant boy," he added, seeing the adults' looks.

"And don't even get me started on the quest Santana screwed over by stealing my sword," Kurt grumbled.

"What happened there?" Judy asked.

"He was trying to bring me back from the dead," Dave supplied.

"I'm still trying to work out why Dave was dead and Rachel was cursed," Leroy mused.

"BLAINE!" the gleeks said, turning to stare at him.

He grinned. "I was a vindictive wizard who had a grudge against the color blue. Anyone wearing blue—so Dave, Rachel and Tina—got cursed or offed when they met me."

"The point is," Artie said, "Fairytale Land Free Form was a raging success. All in favor of going to next year's convention?"

Everyone, including the parents, raised their hands.

"Good," he said, smiling. "Next year is space station themed."


	26. Superhero

_**LbN: Thank you all for the reviews! Also, to Actual Violinist, I'm an actual cellist (15 years now!) and in my younger years of trying to tune my cello and my sister's viola, trust me...I got popped a few times. Yes, Rachel was doing something wrong, but that was kind of the point. Rookie mistake. :)**_

Santana watched the bank robber being led away in chains. She pushed her damp hair out of her face and turned to shake hands with the police chief.

"Really can't thank you enough, Veiled Fairy," he said.

"All in a day's work. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's dinner time at my house." She nodded to the team of police and took off into the sky.


	27. Haunted House

**Haunted House**

"Rawr!"

Quinn nearly jumped out of her skin. "Fuck, Santana!"

"If you really want to, but the kids are home and we do have people coming over in 30 minutes," Santana said, laughing.

"Jerk," Quinn grumbled.

"Aw, baby…don't be mad," Santana said, hugging her. "Just trying to get in the spirit of things."

"You've been in the spirit since the middle of September."

It was true. Halloween was, by far, Santana's favorite holiday. Currently, they had the most badass haunted house on the block. Dry ice gave the illusion of a thick fog rolling through the halls, and Santana had gone all out with the Shipwreck Cove pirate theme. She even had a treasure hunt planned for the kids.

"I know…I'm a mess," the younger woman said. "But I'm your mess. And you're the prettiest tavern wench I've ever laid eye on," she said, tapping her eye patch.

Quinn smiled and shook her head. "Come on, Captain Santana Stormbringer," she said, acquiescing to the use of her wife's pirate title. "Let's go check on the kids."


	28. Secret

**Secret**

The doorbell rang.

"Finn, could you get that?" Rachel called to her ex-boyfriend. They'd broken up a few months ago, but he was still staying with them while he visited Kurt. Much to Rachel's annoyance, Kurt had run out to his internship, leaving her to entertain. Finn had mostly kept to himself, playing the Wii, but she wasn't fond of having to cook for him. She checked the pumpkin ravioli and kept chopping up watermelon.

Finn appeared a second later with a vase of roses. "These are for you."

Rachel smiled brightly and put them on the counter.

"Who are they from?" Finn asked.

"Santana," Rachel said, looking at the card.

"Why is she sending you flowers?"

Rachel shrugged. "Just because."

"You should throw them out."

"What? Why on earth would I do that?"

"She's flirting with you. It's weird. I don't trust her. Something's up."

"That's your business if you trust her or not, Finn," Rachel said coldly. "But you can't tell me what to do with presents my friends give me."

He glowered at her for a moment before going back in the living room and resuming his game.

Rachel sighed and sent a text to her (still secret) girlfriend.

_I can't wait until he's gone. _


	29. Long Distance

**Long Distance**

"Quinn is that vodka?" Rachel yelped.

Skype went blurry for a second as Quinn spun around and looked at the bottle under the "Yale Goes Greek—Pledge Week 2013" banner. "Oh, that's not mine, baby."

"It had better not be. You're on scholarship. You can't be naughty."

"I'm frequently naughty…whenever you come visit," Quinn told her with a cheeky grin.

"Oh stop it. Did you get the package I sent you?"

"Yep! I was waiting until our Skype date to open it." She picked up a small box and cut through the packing tape.

Rachel grinned and hummed "Happy Birthday" as Quinn extracted a blue Ravenclaw scarf, a "Teach the Controversy: Harry is a Horcrux" t-shirt, and bag of lollipops."

Quinn literally squealed. "Thank you baby!"

"You're welcome. Are you coming to see me this weekend?"

"I have a pledge meeting on Friday, but I'll be down on Saturday."

"I can't wait."


	30. Rivals

**Rivals**

It was probably the biggest night of their lives, and they were spending the day scrapbooking.

Rachel giggled and held up a clipping from a magazine. "What was happening here?" she asked Santana. "It does actually look like I was yelling at you."

Santana peered at the picture and laughed. "That's because you were. That was the morning you caught me having a bacon and egg sandwich."

Their compilation was all tabloid fodder. Ever since the Tony nominations had come out, the press had been ridiculous, going on about how she and Rachel were having problems due to the rivalry. It was hilarious; the absolute lies that were going around. It bothered their friends to no end, but they'd been having a good laugh about it.

"Tonight, no matter what happens," Rachel said. "We're partying like we just turned 21, and everyone else can suck it."

"I've obviously had a bad influence on you," Santana said, laughing.

* * *

"And the Tony goes to… Santana Lopez, West Side Story revival!"

The audience went crazy. Rachel pulled Santana close by the tie and kissed her soundly. She stood and clapped, genuinely happy, as her wife and "rival" went up to accept her award.

"Thank you, all of you," Santana started. "This has been an amazing experience, and I have my incredible director and cast members to thank for that. I love you all, and can't think of a better group of people to work with. And thank you to my wife for convincing me to get back into acting," she said, blowing a kiss to Rachel. "Don't believe the tabloids, guys. I'm totally getting laid tonight." With a cheeky grin, she left the stage to raucous applause.


	31. Together Again

**Together Again**

"Tonight I find myself kneeling by the bed to pray," Santana sang to her son, Corbin.

"I haven't done this in a while, so I don't know what to say," the eight year old sang back as he got into his pajamas.

"But, Lord, I feel so small sometimes in this big old place."

"Yeah I know there's more important things…."

"But don't forget to remember me," the finished together.

It was their song. She sang it to him every night since…. She sighed. She didn't want to think about it.

"Mami?" he asked.

"Yeah, baby boy?"

"Can I have a different story tonight?"

"Sure," she said, snuggling next to him. "What story did you want?"

He looked up at her with big green eyes. Quinn's eyes. Rachel's voice, Quinn's eyes…. "Will you tell me about my other Mommies?"

Santana tensed for a moment. "Sure…." She didn't really know how to begin though. "They…they're in heaven now, you know?"

"I know. But why? Why couldn't they stay here with us?"

"They were heroes. They were part of a very special team who stopped very bad guys from picking on people. They travelled all over the world, keeping people safe."

"Like soldiers?"

"Kind of. But sometimes like spies." She smiled as the boy's eyes got wide. "Sometimes they had to go away and they couldn't even tell me or Uncle Dave where they'd gone. And one time…when you were just two years old…the bad guys got to them."

"Will the bad guys come get us?" he asked.

"No. They helped stop them. Kind of like how Harry told Neville to kill the snake if anything happened to him? They were Harry, and the next heroes were Neville. They got Voldemort in the end."

"But Mom and Momma didn't come back."

"No," Santana whispered, kissing him on the head. "They didn't. But they loved us, so much."

* * *

Outside, just within the line of trees, a woman stood crying. She had an earpiece in, and could hear everything that went on in the house.

"Quinn. This has to stop."

She turned to see her wife (the one who knew she was still alive) walking toward her. "You can't tell me you don't miss them. That this isn't…."

Rachel wrapped her arms around her. "I know. It hurts. I just want to hold them both. But we can't—there are rules."

"I don't care about the stupid rules!" Quinn said. "I want my family back. I want us to be together again."

"No, Quinn," Rachel said firmly. "They'll kill us. All of us—including Santana and Corbin. It has to be this way."

They turned back to where Santana was tucking the boy in and watched her turn out the light.

"Come on," Rachel said gently. "Let's go."


	32. Fightin' Words

**Fightin' Words**

Rachel followed behind Dave as he shouldered his way through the crowd of men and boys. She and Santana had met him at the park to pick up their son, Lucien, and had found a large circle in the middle of the field. Santana had summed it up nicely.

"That's a fight, and it's probably our kid."

Things were alright so long as they were there, but the coach was kind of an idiot, and the other dads were assholes. They were convinced that unless they did something about it, Lucien would turn out gay, just like his parents. Being a lesbian couple co-parenting with the kid's gay dad had been attracting some unwanted attention lately. So, according to Lucien, on the rare occasion that one of them couldn't make it to a practice or game, the gay bashing began. It had only been words so far—the other boys calling him a fag or a pussy—but this was definitely a fight.

"The hell is going on?" Dave barked when they got to the middle of the group. Sure enough, Lucien was artfully dodging Blake, the team's quarterback.

"Just toughening him up," one of the dads said.

"Like hell," Santana said. "You just want your kid to have an excuse to beat on him. They're eight years old, for god's sake! Can't we wait to pour this macho he-man bullshit on them until after they've hit puberty?"

"Lucien," Rachel said.

"Aww…mommy's saving the little fag," Blake mocked.

Lucien glared at him but went over to his mother.

"Would you like to fight him?" Rachel asked.

"Yes."

"Are you in control of yourself?"

"Yes."

"Then you may fight him."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and looked to his other mom and his dad for confirmation. When they nodded, he went back over to Blake. "I don't want to hurt you. Do we really have to do this?" he asked.

Blake swung at him, answering the question.

Lucien dodged and, with perfect form, knocked Blake to the ground with one nose-breaking punch.

The circle went silent.

Lucien backed up and stood by Dave.

"What the hell was that?" Blake's father asked, kneeling by his son.

"That was my son, who trains with a UFC fighter every day after school, defending himself," Rachel said.

"I should sue you for this!" he snarled. "We didn't know the kid was trained!"

"Yeah, we know," Dave said. "You were letting your kid pick on a kid who you thought was weaker. Well, this is a good lesson for your little bully. There's always someone bigger, badder, and stronger. Don't go picking fights when you don't know you'll win."

Wrapping an arm around Lucien's shoulder, Santana led the way back to the car.


	33. American Dream

**American Dream**

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?" Quinn asked.

"Hmmm?"

"You know…the whole 'American Dream'? House…successful careers…apple pie cooling in the window—"

"Getting fucked into a sex coma on your kitchen floor?" Santana supplied with a grin.

"While amazing, that was hardly a sex coma," Quinn said, smiling at Santana's look of outrage. "And we seriously need to talk about the fact that you jump me every time I'm baking."

"Exaggerating."

"When I made cupcakes for Rachel's birthday party…we ended up being an hour late. When I made cookies for Little Quinn's class party…. When I made coffee cake for the company picnic—"

"Okay, okay… what can I say? I have a thing for you being all domestic and shit."

"You're impossible. Go find my shirt before our son gets home."


	34. Plan

**Plan**

Adam Hudson packed quickly. He'd already gotten his sister's duffle bag ready to go, and was now shoving clothes into his as quickly as possible. His sister sat looking out of the window.

"Anything?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, stay here for a second." He peeked into the hall. There was light coming from his parents' room, but no noise. His mom had been drinking out since two that afternoon, so she probably wasn't getting up anytime soon. Quietly, he motioned for Kelly to follow him, and they made their way downstairs.

The thirteen year old had planned for every catastrophe, but none met them as they took a couple of fifty dollar bills from the kitchen drawer and made their way out of the house. The neighborhood was quiet and still, and they made sure to keep it that way by avoiding houses with dogs in back. By the time they got to the train station, both children were sweating from nerves.

"Two tickets to Grand Central Station, please," Adam said.

"Bit young to be traveling by yourselves, aren't you?" the man at the gate asked.

"We're going to see our aunts," he explained. "Our parents fixed it. They had to work."

The man huffed and gave Adam his change and the tickets.

It was the last train to New York which meant, in Adam's mind, that when they're dad got home and needed to find one of them to use as a punching bag, he at least wouldn't be able to follow them.

"Adam?" Kelly whispered.

"Yeah?"

"What if they don't like us?"

Adam scratched his head. That part of the plan was the only thing that scared him. "They do. They send us birthday presents every year, even though Mom doesn't let us have them. They'll like us enough. Don't worry."

The train started to roll, and the pair let out a sigh of relief. They were leaving their old life behind.

* * *

The blond woman paced back and forth with the letter she'd received that morning. Two kids she'd never met were on their way, running from her former classmates.

"Quinn…it's going to be okay. Sit down," Rachel said.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"Let's just…wait until they get here. Then we can think of a plan."


	35. Icon

**Icon**

"Gabriel!"

"Gabriel!"

"Over here!"

"Somehow, I'm not okay with the fact that our son is a bigger star than us," Quinn said, though her proud smile said otherwise.

Santana grinned as her son posed for the cameras that lined the red carpet. "You have to admit, he's good at the whole Hollywood thing."

"True," Quinn said as they followed behind him. "Plus, I love what he's really famous for."

Gabriel Lopez had been acting for only a year now, but he'd earned quite a reputation for not fucking around with reporters. The fourteen year old was leading man material already—tall for his age, with Santana's hair and complexion, and Quinn's eyes. But unlike most pretty Hollywood kids, Gabriel was smart. Smart enough to talk himself out of any interview he didn't want to be in, and call interviewers out on any bullshit they threw at him. And since he was still young enough, it was chalked up to childhood precociousness, whereas any adult who pulled the things he tried would be crucified by the media.

"Gabriel! This way!"

Santana and Quinn kept close behind him as he walked over to the reporters.

"Behave yourself," Quinn said, smirking.

"Gabriel, we're so glad you're here tonight!" the male ET reporter said.

"Thanks, it's an honor to be here," he said, smiling.

"Now, tell us what it's like to be an international icon at such a young age."

He shrugged and smiled at the camera. "I get up every morning, eat my Frosted Flakes and my mom drives me to school. Every once in a while, I end up on a red carpet."

Both interviewers laughed indulgently at this. The woman patted him on the shoulder and asked, "What do you think about these rumors that you're gay?"

Santana and Quinn both tensed. This was about to get interesting.

"There are rumors that I'm gay?" Gabriel asked, sounding politely interested. "I guess I hadn't heard those yet."

"He's giving her an out," Santana whispered to Quinn.

"How much you want to bet she doesn't take it?" Quinn whispered back.

"Oh, yes. A lot of people are wondering, since you aren't seeing anyone and you tend to show up to these events with your mothers."

"Strike one," Quinn muttered.

"My mothers are the reason I'm famous," Gabriel said. "They're the reason I have these great opportunities. I want to share these experiences with them."

"That's very good of you," the man said. "But give us the real story. Are you gay?"

"Why? Are you asking me out?" he asked, in what was unmistakably Santana's "Sex Voice".

The woman laughed hysterically while her partner blushed and tried to regain his footing.

Gabriel just grinned. "I think what people want from me is a hard core denial. But it's not offensive to me that people think I'm gay. My godfather is gay. My moms are super gay. Whatever I grow up to be…that'll be who I am."

"But what about all of the gay teens out there," the woman asked. "You could be a role model to them if you'd—"

"I hope I'm already a role model for everyone," Gabriel interrupted. "And to those kids out there struggling, I think this is what's important—don't ever let other people force you out of the closet, or define who you are. Just because you do your hair a certain way, or like certain stuff, or bring your moms to important events instead of bringing super models…it doesn't matter. Be who you are when you're ready to be who you are. Have a good night, guys!"

Santana and Quinn, both standing off camera, gave him a thumbs up as he walked over to them.

"See?" he said. "I behaved myself."


	36. Riddle

**Riddle**

Rachel got home that Friday to find a bouquet of roses on the living room table. Propped up against the vase was a large sheet of scrapbooking paper that had question marks all over it. She dropped her bag and coat on the couch and picked up the paper. Immediately, she recognized Santana's handwriting on the other side.

_What gets wetter the more it dries?_

_When you have the answer, proceed to your next clue._

She smiled. It was an ongoing pissing contest between the two of them, seeing who could stump the other with a riddle. She thought about it for a second, pretty sure she'd heard this one before. "A towel!" Assuming that that was where her next clue would be, she scurried to their bathroom. Sure enough, another riddle was there.

_I go around the world, but stay in one corner. What am I?_

"Too easy. A stamp."

She scurried all over the house for another hour finding a sponge (I have holes, but still hold water. What am I?), a box of tissue (toss me from a building, I will not break. Drown me in water, I will.), and the one that took the longest to figure out, a shoe (I run over fields all day. At night I wait under the bed to be filled in the morning. I am never alone). By the end of it, she was still going purely out of her sense of competitiveness. Her last clue was less of a riddle and more of a word puzzle.

_Where there's a _, there's a way._

__ catch more bees with honey than with vinegar._

_Don't _ the person you think you can live with; _ the person you can't live without._

_Show _ your friends and I will show you your character. _

She had to skip over the third one, but once she'd filled in all the others, she could guess. "Santana?" she called.

"Yes?"

Rachel spun around. "Where were you?"

"Hiding in Kurt's room. Did you figure it out?"

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Santana smiled, got down on one knee, and pulled out a ring box. "Yes. Rachel Barbara Berry, will you marry me?"

Rachel half hugged, half tackled her. "Yes!"

"Awesome. And I'm counting that third blank as a win for me since you didn't guess it."

Rachel just laughed.


	37. Worm

**Worm**

The two couples glared at each other momentarily before entering the elementary school building. They found their kids in the office, in the middle of a similar glaring match.

"Ah, good," Principal Miller said. "You're here. If you'd all step into my office."

Rachel and Santana led the way with Lucien, and Finn and Sugar brought up the rear with Isabella.

"We'll make this brief," the principal said. "I understand there's been a bit of back and forth teasing going on between the kids. Today, as I understand it, there was some name calling on the playground, and the Isabella put worms in Lucien's chili at lunch. This led to a shouting match at reading time, which is why you're all here now."

The parents looked at their kids, who were both glaring at the floor.

Principal Miller sighed. "I'm giving them both a writing assignment as to how to work on being better friends to one another—"

"I don't want to be his friend," Isabella grumbled. She fell silent as Finn nudged her.

"And it will be due on my desk tomorrow. And from now on, we work out our problems without being mean to one another. I don't want any more disruptions to Mr. Kelsey's class, understood?"

"Yes, sir," both children grumbled.


	38. Bike

**Bike**

When she was sure Santana and Quinn had left for the day, she went back into the kitchen to find Brittany. "Hey," she said, giving the dancer a kiss on her cheek. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure," Brittany said. "What's up?"

"I need you…to teach me to ride a bike."

Brittany stopped drying dishes and turned to stare at Rachel. "Are you serious right now?"

"It was just something I never learned to do!" Rachel explained in a hurry. "My dad tried to teach me once when I was little, but I fell off and between mine and my daddy's dramatics, none of us ever went back to the situation again."

Brittany smiled at her. "Sure, Rae Bear. Why do you want to learn all of a sudden?"

"Because our kids are turning five in a week. They're going to want to learn soon, and I don't want to be the only family member who can't go for a nice relaxing bike ride through the countryside after they learn."

"I have a class in an hour, but we can start after that."

"So long as we get to a stopping point before Santana and Quinn get back," she muttered.

"They won't give you too hard of a time."

Rachel smirked. "I still haven't lived down the whole Muppet Babies incident. I don't want to chance it."


	39. Tumblr

**Tumblr**

Santana and Rachel walked in and were greeted with a heavenly smell.

"Oh god…"

"She's at it again," Rachel said, smiling.

"We need to find her a twelve step program."

"Both of you stop talking shit and get in here! I need you to set the table," Quinn called.

Quinn had taken a social media class the semester before and had found something called Tumblr. Ever since, she'd been on a food porn binge. There had been a brief hiatus around finals, but apparently the blonde was back on her game.

"What is it tonight, Q?" Santana asked, gathering forks and knives from various drawers.

"Macaroni and cheese with apples and bacon—yes, I made yours separate, Rachel—and spaghetti squash with tomatoes and cherries. Hold on! I have to Instagram it!"

The other two groaned.


	40. Sick Day

Quinn smiled at the steady string of Spanish coming from her best friend. "San, you've had half a bottle of Nyquil…. I don't think Assassin's Creed is going to get any better for you."

Santana grumbled and tossed the Xbox controller onto the table. "Cuddle nap with me," she demanded.

Quinn smiled. "You big baby," she said, snuggling down next to Santana. She pulled the afghan around them. "Go to sleep."


	41. Snowed In

Rachel smiled across the table at a very pregnant Quinn. "Think she's going to take a break any time soon?"

"No way," Quinn said. "She's on a mission to get the nursery put together completely before the snow melts."

They'd been snowed in for a day and a half now, and Santana had taken the opportunity to do some preparations for the newest addition to their family. They hadn't checked on her in a while, but if the drill noises were any indication, the painting was finished and most of the furniture was up by now.

Rachel put another piece of the puzzle down. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine. But I want a hot dog," Quinn whined.

"Me too!" Santana called from down the hall.

"Fine," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "Carnivores…."


	42. Wolves

It had been a week since she'd learned that her girlfriends were werewolves. Ever since, the boring normality of day to day life had been bothering her to no end. Like now… a few of the pack were kicked back near the river next to their fishing lines. Quinn was playing chess with the Alpha who was visiting from Seattle (Jacob, or something like that), and there was a small but epic game of Frisbee going on. Shouldn't they be doing…wolf stuff?

"Takes a while to get used to," Santana said, hugging Rachel from behind.

"You can say that again."


	43. Science

Santana dropped her briefcase next to the door and kicked off her shoes. After a month on the road, she was looking forward to movie and pizza night at home with her wife and son. She made her way into the kitchen for a quick snack before they turned up. The pantry was full, which meant Quinn had been to the store recently. Good thing, she was in the mood for….

Where the hell were the Cheetos?

"Mami!"

"I'm in here!" she called.

A second later, a tiny head with a mane of blonde hair peeked around the corner. "Mami!" Fabian shrieked. The eight year old set an orange globe down on the table, and bolted over to her for a hug.

"I've missed you," she said.

"We missed you too," Quinn said, strolling into the kitchen. She gave Santana a quick kiss. "Yes, those are your Cheetos pasted to a Styrofoam globe."

"I made Mars!" Fabian explained. "It was for Science Fair Day at school."

"Little man didn't tell me until last night, and we don't keep craft junk around the house like Rachel and Britt."

"At least I lost my snacks in the name of scientific progress," Santana said.

"I came in second place," Fabian said. "Before Stacia Puckerman, but after Dante Berry."

"Yeah, well…Auntie Rachel probably made his for him," Santana said, snickering.

"Nope. He said Aunt Brittany won't let her help with projects anymore."

"What do you say we order a pizza and watch some movies?" Quinn asked.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Santana said, smiling.


	44. Show and Tell

"All right, class!" Mrs. Booker said. "Today is show and tell. Now, one of our vocab plus words this week was 'parity', so you were supposed to bring in something with equal parts. Who would like to go first?"

Fifteen hands shot into the air.

"How about…Noah! Noah Lopez, come on up. What do you have for us?"

"A fake mouth!" the seven-year-old said excitedly.

"A…what?"

Smiling brightly, he produced a set of false teeth. "They were at my Grandpa Leroy's house. I don't know why he's got them. But see? Two equal parts."

Mrs. Booker tried hard not to laugh. Fifteen years working in various school districts, and she could honestly say this was a first. She wondered if Grandpa Leroy was wondering where his teeth went….


	45. Runaway

It had taken her a week to save up enough money from random pan handling and odd jobs, but damned if she didn't have her hamburger. She chewed quietly as the bus took her farther away from Lima. Crumpling the greasy McDonald's sack, she shoved it into her backpack. She'd be hungry again tomorrow, and the French fries would taste good enough.

"Doing okay, kid?"

She looked the elderly man up and down, and nodded.

"This is my stop," he said. He handed her a package of Eclipse gum. There was a fifty dollar bill in there. "I seen kids like you before. You'll be okay. Good luck."

"Thank you," she mumbled.


	46. Prize

It had been a great couple of weeks. Paradise, really. Quinn leaned against the statue and looked out over Trafalgar Square. The vacation had been a prize for a journalism contest, but it had gotten her thinking. She'd spent a few days looking for jobs. London was really starting to grow on her.

She finished her melon salad and made her way back up the steps toward the Tube station. She still had time before she had to be at the theater, so she stopped to rest on a park bench. Her phone rang, and she smiled.

"Rachel, how much is this call costing you?" she asked in lieu of a formal greeting.

"Don't worry about it. Are you going to see Wicked tonight?"

"You know it. I've gone through your London Musicals and Plays network that you drew up."

"Fantastic! Remember—"

"I know…If I meet Idina Menzel, I have to get you an autograph."

"Have fun. I can't wait to see you when you get back!"

Quinn smiled as she hung up the phone. She pulled her coat more snugly around her and watched London roll by.


	47. Competitive

It was an annual event that had long since become tradition. The original Gleeks got together every summer for a cookout and a kickball game. Quinn had laughed herself silly when she'd gotten this year's invitation in the letterbox.

"Baby River Dolphins versus the Happy Ducklings?" she asked Santana. "That's literally the best thing I've ever heard."

"Only Rachel and Britt would think of names like that."

"You named your team Satan's Minions when you got to coach," Quinn reminded her.

"True," Santana said, sipping the foam off her cappuccino. "Are we going?"

"Of course we are. I'm playing for the Baby River Dolphins, just so you know."


	48. Business

Santana double checked the address and walked up the stairs. She opened the door to the top level's café and smiled. She crossed the small room and sat across from Quinn. "Morning."

"Good morning. Nice sandals."

"Yeah, well…. I figured a trip to Cali warranted a bit of a shopping binge. How's life?"

"Significantly more epic now that you've entered it again," the blonde said, smiling brightly. "Are you sure about wanting to work with me on your book?"

"You're the best literary agent out there in my mind," Santana said. "Completely sure."

Quinn nodded. "Go order something, and we'll talk about the contract. I recommend the peanut butter macaroons, by the way."


	49. Bliss

Rachel smiled as she watched her two kids run around the backyard. A book lay open on the table, but at the moment her children were more entertaining. They were playing some sort of game where they were wizards and were turning various parts of the garden into monsters to battle each other. The roses were apparently dragons, and the large tree had just been morphed into Godzilla.

"Hi Britt," she said as a hand covered her eyes.

Brittany moved around the table and set down the tray of sandwiches she'd had balanced on her arm. "Lunch time."

"Bobbi, Michael!" Rachel called. "Stop messing with the shed's padlock and come eat!"

"Is the padlock a monster too now?" Brittany asked when her daughter made it over to them.

"It's a Pokemon. We needed light infantry."

"That's the last time Uncle Finn reads war stories to the pair of you," Rachel mumbled. She squirted hand sanitizer into the children's hands, smiling as they talked animatedly about their "war". She caught Brittany's eye. The blonde was smiling brightly at her. This was bliss.


	50. Jack O Lantern

**Jack-O-Lantern**

Santana set the knife down and examined her work. It wasn't the best job of carving a jack o lantern, but it couldn't be the worst. She took a sip of beer before carrying the pumpkin out onto the front porch. She passed Rachel, who was making popcorn balls in the living room.

"Did you already put yours out?" she asked.

"Yep," Rachel chirped. "Hurry up and come help me with these."

Santana went outside and set her pumpkin next to Rachel's she took a look at her girlfriend's creation, and tried not to groan.

Rachel had managed to carve an impressive pumpkin rendition of Elphaba mid-Defying Gravity. Completing the effect was a green tea light.

It was hard dating a perfectionist.


	51. Christmas

**Christmas**

"Shhh!" Quinn said, smiling as she tiptoed back into the living room with a bowl of grapes. "Are you okay?"

"Paper cut," Santana grumbled quietly.

"I'm impressed you've only gotten one," Quinn said, glancing at the six empty wrapping paper tubes.

It was their first Christmas with their son, Kevin, and their daughter, Zara. The adoption process had been a long emotional rollercoaster, and the two women were determined to make their first family Christmas a memorable one. Thus, it couldn't be said that they'd gone overboard with presents, because at this point "overboard" was just a distant glimmer in the past. They had, in fact, gone so far overboard that, according to some theories of space/time logic, they were back on board again.

"That's the last one," Santana said, scooting over to sit next to Quinn on the couch.

"Good. I fear we may be spoiling them."

"Just maybe…" Santana said with a smirk. She wrapped the blanket around them and gave Quinn a kiss. "Merry Christmas, Q."

"You too, S."


	52. Crafts

**Crafts**

Absolutely no one would have pictured Santana as an elementary school teacher. But damned if she hadn't won Best Teacher for three years running. She chugged the rest of her Mountain Dew and kept working on the example of the bracelets her first graders would be making the next day.

"Hah!" she said finally, holding it up in triumph.

Quinn paused her round of Halo and looked over. The blonde smiled. "Leather bracelets?"

"I swear it makes sense in the context of our social studies lessons."

"Mmmhmm…. I think you just like arts and crafts."


	53. World Cup

**World Cup**

"You almost ready, Quinn?" Rachel called. She set the last bowl of chips on the table. The US had made it to the finals of the World Cup for the first time in years, and all of her soccer friends were coming over for the final match against South Africa.

"Right here," Quinn said, jogging out from the bedroom. "What can I help with? What?" she asked, catching Rachel's look.

"Seriously? That's what you're wearing?"

"You said red, white and blue…."

"Not your Quidditch jersey! There's even a Snitch on it!"

"Yeah, but it's patriotic all the same," the blonde said, grinning. "Come on, I'll help you with the pizzas."


	54. Getaway Car

**Getaway**

Santana peeked out of the motel window, trying not to disturb the curtains much. "No one," she told the other two.

"We're almost to Canada," Rachel said. "I think anyone following us…well, we would have spotted them by now. Did you count?" she asked Quinn.

"Twice. We still have about a hundred grand left. When we get to Toronto we can open two accounts and then we just have to transfer it when we get to London."

"Shit," Santana said. "Police."

The other two packed at lightning speed. Rachel stowed her gun, and each woman shouldered a few duffle bags of cash. They made their way out of the room and down the back stairs silently as assassins. They got to the parking lot just as the two patrol cars pulled up to the front door. They passed by the Cadillac they'd been driving since St. Louis and Rachel popped the lock on a beige minivan. Ash she started the car (using one of the many keys she'd stolen along the way) Santana and Quinn loaded the bags and grabbed the two grubby suitcases from the smaller car. They peeled away two minutes later, setting the record for their fastest getaway yet.


	55. Roomies

**Roomies**

Mercedes pulled on her snow boots over her scrubs.

"You're heading out in this weather?" another nurse asked.

"Yep. Forgot my lunch at home, so I have to go grab something."

"Yo, Cedes!" Nurse Ricky called. "There's someone out front looking for you. Blond hair, fierce skinny jeans and she did this thing with her eyebrow when Mark said he didn't know where you were."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah! That's it!"

Mercedes laughed and walked to the visitor's center. Sure enough, her roommate was there, reading one of the year-old magazines.

"I brought you lunch," Quinn said with a smile.

"Thanks! Got time to eat with me? I've got new patient gossip," she added in a whisper.

Quinn laughed. "Always have time for you, roomie."


	56. President

**President**

Santana and Quinn waved at the crowd as they descended the steps to the black limo. It had been an amazing, sunny morning outside the Lincoln Memorial. The type of day that you pictured when you think of history making moments, which this was. Cheers went up from the crowd as they continued to the car. American flags waved at them from the masses and lined the walkway down to the road.

Shots rang out.

"Santana!" Quinn called, trying to see around the Secret Service man who was now practically on top of her.

"Get her out of here!" someone called.

Someone pulled Quinn to her feet and ushered her quickly to the car. But not before she saw her wife motionless on the ground.

Santana had made history that day. First female president. First gay president. Fastest assassination.


	57. Mourning

**Mourning**

Quinn listened to the piano version of Tchaikovsky's Marche Slav and cried. She'd already been through five boxes of tissue, and wasn't bothering anymore. Usually, under this sort of stress, she'd be searching for her cigarettes, but she'd given them up. She'd promised Santana. It was the last promise she'd made to her, and she was going to keep it.

"Mrs. Lopez? Mr. Evans is being sworn in downstairs. Would you like me to bring the boys down?"

"Yes," she said, in a voice so clear it surprised her. "I'll be along in a moment."

She took another minute to collect herself before going down to one of the White House's parlors to see Sam be sworn in.

"Ma'am…would you like a handkerchief?" one of the bodyguards asked. "To…uh…wipe your face?"

"Will this be televised?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am."

"Then no. I want them to see my sons' and my tears. I want them to see our pain, and feel the loss of their president as much as we do." With that, she took her boys' hands and walked into the parlor.


	58. Funeral

**Funeral**

She'd looked at pictures of other first ladies at their husbands' funerals. They'd all looked elegant. Flawless in their grief. Quinn was a wreck.

There was a knock at the door and Rachel stepped inside.

"We're ready," she said quietly, pulling Quinn into a hug for the 80th time that day. "Brittany's downstairs with Kane and Jacob."

Nodding, Quinn followed her out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

The casket was there in the entryway, surrounded by roses. She could see flashbulbs going off outside.

"Stay with me," she whispered, squeezing Rachel's hand.

"We're not going anywhere."


	59. Bedtime

**Bedtime**

Quinn watched as Santana helped their daughter into pajamas for bed. They were adorable together.

Santana turned on the Hello Kitty lamp and picked up one of the picture books on the bedside table as their daughter, Danielle, bounced on the bed.

"Momma!"

"Yes?" Quinn asked, picking her up.

"Tell Mami I want a snake for my birthday."

"No way," both women said.


	60. Poker

**Poker**

Santana glared around the poker table, as if daring her girlfriends to have better cards than hers. She nodded once. "Right, Rach… I see your dish washing duties and raise you a month of back rubs."

Quinn folded. "Fuck this."

"I see your back rubs," Rachel said, smirking. "And raise you a complaint free steak dinner."

Brittany folded.

The women glared at each other for another moment. Then Santana threw caution to the winds, praying that Rachel was bluffing.

"I see your steak dinner and raise you a trip to see Idina Menzel's return performance in Wicked."

The blondes gasped.

Rachel and Santana put down their cards.

"Full house," Rachel said.

Santana grinned a grin that was full of evil glee. "Royal flush."


	61. Bad Day

**Bad Day**

Quinn had had a shit day. It really was the works from start to finish. No breakfast, bad hair day, late to work, chewed out (twice) by her boss, three surprise (and frustratingly unproductive) meetings, spilled coffee…. She was ready to punch somebody in the throat by the time she made it back to the apartment. She opened the door and stopped, jaw dropping.

There were candles and roses everywhere. The Playstation was hooked up and on the opening screen of Kingdom Hearts. And an absolutely heavenly smell was coming from the kitchen. Which was where she found her girlfriend.

Santana was scooping salad onto two plates and humming A Whole New World. "Hi baby," she said, giving Quinn a kiss. "Pasta's nearly ready. Go change out of your work clothes and play your game. I'll bring dinner in."

Quinn nodded, but pulled Santana into a hug first. "I love you so hard."

The younger woman chuckled. "Back at you, Q."


	62. Inspiration

**Inspiration**

Quinn growled at the screen and kicked the table.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked, coming over from the bed. She rested her chin lightly on Quinn's shoulder and furrowed her brow. "Why is there a picture of an umbrella, aspirin, a typewriter, and a leprechaun on the computer?"

"It's our assignment for this week," Quinn said with a sigh. "We're supposed to write a story in 100 words or less, using these pictures."

Brittany grinned. "Can I do your homework for you?"

Quinn thought about it for a second. This could be the best idea ever, or it could potentially end in a fiery ball of fail. "Sure, Ducky," she said, kissing the dancer on the cheek.

"Go pick a movie. I'll be done by the time it starts."

Quinn walked over to their entertainment center and ran a finger along all the titles. She settled on Boondock Saints after a moment, and started the DVD playing. Sure enough, when she went back to the desk, Brittany was done.

"Tell me what you think," the younger woman said.

_**The leprechaun's wife had taken the unicorn when she left him. He'd broken his magical umbrella and had nothing left to live for. He typed a brief note to his cousin in Utah before swallowing an entire bottle of aspirin with some fruit punch. **_

_**When the magical police found him the next day, he'd turned a weird purple color.**_

Quinn grinned. It fitted the requirements, and suited her tendency toward the morbid. "Thanks, Ducky. I sincerely don't know why you're not in the writing program with me…."

"I dance, you write, the world works."

"That it does. Come cuddle with me."


	63. Understanding

**Understanding**

"It's good to see you again."

"You too. It's been a while."

"Only a year. I have a small issue, and I need your special brand of assistance."

The younger man smiled and pulled two bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade out of his mini fridge. "Tag team back together again…brings a tear to my eye," he said, passing her a drink. "And what cataclysmic event warrants a visit from our…less than noble sides? The world didn't learn its lesson the last time?"

"Someone attacked Rachel."

The look that passed over the younger man's face would have made anyone else run for cover, but Santana had long since grown accustomed to the darkness that lived in Sebastian. She had the same stuff as well…traits they kept hidden underneath layers of happiness that society had taught them needed to be there. They weren't friends, but they understood each other. And in that understanding, they knew they could trust each other. And every once in a while, the universe would act a fool and they'd have to straighten things out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"She was coming home from a late class. Normally she calls and Dave goes to meet her, but... anyway, she's okay. He knocked her out and took her cash."

"But then—"

"He got caught before he could get far," Santana continued. "But he's a football player, and the school's not handling it. Like at all. They didn't even make him give the money back."

Sebastian nodded. "Understood. Go home to your lady. I need to think."

* * *

"Santana!"

"In the kitchen!"

Rachel, whose black eye was just now starting to look less like a disaster, walked into the kitchen to find it, Santana and Dave all covered in flour and pancake batter. "What the hell?"

"We were trying to learn to flip pancakes without the spatula," Dave explained. "It took some practice."

"What's up, baby girl?" Santana asked. "You look like you ran all the way here."

"Kory Roddell stepped down from the football team today. He gave some big speech to the athletic department. Oh, and he gave me my sixty dollars back."

"What?" Dave asked. "I mean, that's great. But what happened?"

"I don't know," Rachel said.

Santana just smiled.


	64. Costumes

**Costumes**

"Wait, no!" Rachel whined. "That doesn't work."

"Why not?" Santana asked. "I'm the badass, save the day one, Quinn's obvz the brainiac of the group…."

"Which makes me the whiny, jealous man child? I resent that!"

Quinn tried desperately not to laugh as her best friends argued over their Halloween outfits.

"I refuse to go as Ron."

"Well, then we have to pick another theme," Santana huffed. "And I already ordered robes, so that won't work."

"I have an idea," Quinn said.

* * *

"Hey, you three!" Puck said, opening the door. "Welcome to Puckapalooza's Nerdy Halloween. I see your costumes fit the description."

"Hermione, Ginny and Luna, at your service," Rachel said happily, radish earrings bouncing as she walked in.


	65. Busted

**Busted**

"San," Rachel gasped.

"Shhh, baby girl. You still gotta be quiet." Santana smiled as Rachel shuddered against her. She felt the girl's nails dig into her shoulders and—

_**WHAM WHAM WHAM!**_

"Fuck!"

"Oh my god!"

"Rachel, Santana! Is everything ok—er…"

"Mr. Schue, you are the world's biggest cock block," Santana grumbled, opening the car door..

"Girls! This is completely inappropriate!" he whispered.

"We still had our clothes on, calm down."

"I was worried about you two," he said sternly. "You can't just disappear like that!"

"Yeah, well unlike the rest of the ungrateful bastards on the team, I felt the need to thank Rachel for securing our win at Regionals today."

"With sex?" Schue nearly shouted.

"Keep it down!" Rachel said, finally recovering from both epic orgasm and epic embarrassment.

"Rachel, this isn't like you," he said. "You're not the kind of girl to go for meaningless sex."

"Oh, gee, thanks," Santana mumbled.

"You know what I mean, Santana."

"Mr. Schue, with all due respect, my sex life is none of your business," Rachel said. "That said, it isn't meaningless sex. Santana's my girlfriend, and—"

"Wait, what? What about Finn?"

"She kicked Finnept to the curb six months ago!" Santana said. "Where have you been?"

"As you can see, we're both perfectly fine," Rachel said. "You can go back to celebrating without us."

"We weren't—"

"Save it," Santana told him as she and Rachel climbed out of the car. "We heard Artie and Tina talking about how annoying we've been lately. We know they're having a party in the boys' room that we weren't invited to, and we heard you in there having a good old time when we came down here for some relaxation."

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Schue," Rachel said, taking Santana's hand. "You never do."


	66. Baller

**Baller**

"You want me to teach you what?" Santana asked, a bite of waffle halfway to her mouth.

"How to play basketball," Rachel said.

There was silence in the kitchen for a long, awkward moment. Santana set her fork down and leaned back in her chair. She quirked an eyebrow at Rachel.

"Why?"

"Well, as spring has finally come around, I'd like to get more outdoor exercise. Also, I've found that I am extremely deficient in my knowledge of sports. I'd like to participate in some group camaraderie with my fellow NYADAns, who play pickup games once a week. So…will you teach me?"

Santana smiled and nodded. "Sure thing, baby."

"Do you think I'll be able to pick it up fast enough to be able to play in a few weeks?"

"I guarantee you'll be a little baller when I'm done with you."

* * *

Santana grinned as Rachel came running off the court. She waited in the bleachers while her girlfriend said goodbye to her friends. "Hey Rae Bear!"

"Hi San," Rachel said, still breathing hard. "I don't think I'll ever get used to how physically exhausting that is."

"Want to go grab a beer to celebrate your first big win?"

"I fear my personal hygiene at the moment is not conducive to public spaces."

"That's cool," Santana said, giving her a smirk. "I'd rather celebrate at home anyway. And it doesn't matter if you're sweaty for what I have planned."

Rachel rolled her eyes and took Santana's hand as they left the park.


	67. Music

**Music**

Santana wasn't sure how Quinn had managed to talk her and Rachel into going with her to her hipster festival. Still here they were, sitting on a quilt in the grass section of the amphitheater and checking out the names of the weirdest bands ever.

"Chocolate Internet Donkey?"

"Oooh! I like them!" Quinn said. "Their stuff isn't as weird as the name, I swear."

"Who are The Vitamins?" Rachel asked. "I feel like I should like them just on general principal…."

"The Iron Kippers are my favorite," Santana said. "I don't give a shit what their music sounds like. I'm all over that name."

"Shhh! Gas Reign is coming on!" Quinn said excitedly, pointing to the stage.

"Who?" both girls asked.

"Shhh!"


	68. Bully

**Bully**

"I must say, it's a joy having Gabriella in class."

"Thank you, Mrs. Grace," Rachel said.

"We're glad she's not giving you trouble," Santana added with a laugh. "She can be talkative."

"And fidgety."

"No, no," Mrs. Grace said, laughing. "She's actually very good at controlling herself in class. Which is odd, for an eight year old, but there you are. She's been doing wonderfully with all of her work…."

"There's a 'but' coming, right?" Santana asked.

"I think she might be having a problem with a bully. We've been doing writing exercises for a couple of weeks, and…well, there have been some recurring themes in her stories and poems."

She handed them a few papers, and they tried not to visibly cringe as they read. All of the stories revolved around a baby rhino named Ella, and all of the animals who made fun of her because of her horn.

"I haven't witnessed anything myself," Mrs. Grace said. "And according to the specials teachers, neither have they. I asked her if she was making friends and she told me yes. I wanted to talk to you about how to proceed from here. I want to make sure we address this on our end."

"We'll talk to her," Santana said. "We're planning her birthday party this weekend, so maybe she'll tell us if there's someone she's…hesitant about inviting."

"Please let me know if there is anything I can do."

When Rachel and Santana got into the car, they sat there for a few minutes in silence.

"Maybe it's nothing," Rachel said.

"Maybe. But I doubt it."

* * *

"Hi Mami! Hi Momma! Auntie Quinn let me play with a kitten today!" Gabriella said.

"Trying to turn out daughter into a vet already, Q?" Santana asked, laughing.

"You know it! How was the conference?"

"Good," Rachel said. "We'll fill you in later," she added in a whisper.

"Coffee tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

They walked back out to the car, and let Gabriella fill them in on the rest of her day. By the time she'd talked herself out, they were home.

"We need to talk about your birthday party, little goober," Santana said, plopping down on the couch with her.

"Can it be a costume party?" she asked. "I know it's not Halloween, but…."

"It can be anything you want, baby. Now, are we inviting your whole class, or do you want to keep it smaller?" She watched the girl think for a minute.

"Honey?" Rachel asked her. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, Momma. It's okay, we can invite everyone. I don't want anyone to feel left out."

"That's very nice of you, sweetie," Santana said, giving her a quick hug. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Is anyone…being mean to you at all? I know you're making lots of friends, but no one's teasing you, right?"

Gabriella squirmed and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"It's okay, Gabs," Santana said. "We just want to know that you're okay. You can tell us."

"I…guess. This boy in Mr. Connor's class has been teasing me about my nose. He says it's really big and that no one's ever going to be my boyfriend because I'm ugly and…."

And the dam broke. Gabriella told them all about Toby Greyson and his two friends and how they'd been teasing her at recess and their specials classes. She didn't seem overly upset about it, but was still obviously relieved to be telling them.

"You can always tell us anything," Rachel said when the little girl was done. "Thank you for letting us know."

"Can we look on Pintrest for invitation ideas now?"

Santana chuckled. The little girl was a lot like her. Once the conversation was over, it was over. "Sure baby girl."

* * *

Rachel was trying to figure out how'd they'd been talked into hosting thirty hyper eight and nine year olds. She went to the door to let the last kid. "Hi! Come on in. What's your name, little guy?"

The little boy smiled brightly at her from next to his father. He had coal black hair and bright blue eyes. "I'm Toby," he said.

She blinked in surprise. "Er, hi Toby. Welcome. You must be Mr. Greyson."

"Yes. Thanks for inviting him. He was so excited when he got the invitation."

"No problem. Would you like to stay?"

"I have some errands to run, but I'll be back."

"Alright. See you later!"

"Hi Toby!" Gabriella said, running over.

He blushed furiously. "Hi Gabby. Here." He handed her a present and, to Rachel's surprise, a rose. "I know you like flowers."

She beamed at him. "Come on, we're playing games in the backyard."

They ran past Rachel and Santana.

"Oh my god…they're us," Santana said, terrified.

"What? No!"

"Please? Bully who's obvz secretly in love with tiny Jewish princess? That's so us."

"Shut up," Rachel said laughing.

"Okay, but I'm buying a gun tomorrow. And keep an eye on them in case he's JUST like me and asks her to play doctor…."


	69. Duckies

**Duckies**

Quinn smiled as she watched her family playing in the pool. They were in town for Blaine and Dave's wedding, and their kids were thoroughly impressed by the hotel's water slide.

"I told you this would happen," Rachel said, smiling and handing Quinn a drink. "Santana taught them how to swim; now we'll never get them out of the water."

"At least that makes Brittany's nickname for them completely logical," Quinn said, scooting over so Rachel could cuddle in next to her. "She's always called them her little duckies."

"More like fishies at this point."

Quinn smiled and turned back to where the kids' godmothers were having a very lively diving board contest. "They need a couple of their own…."

"What's wrong with loaning them ours every once in a while?" Rachel asked, giggling.

"Nothing. But they spoil ours mercilessly. Payback would be sweet." Quinn got a faraway look in her eyes and a decidedly evil grin on her face. "Think about it… getting their kids all sugared up on chocolate before dinner. Buying their little boy a drum set for Christmas…. Revenge is a dish, best served by ice cream trucks."

Rachel laughed, nearly spilling her drink. "You've thought about this way too much."

"I know."


	70. Heat Wave

**Heat Wave**

"This is torture," Santana said.

She and Quinn were lying on top of the bed in their bathing suits. Two fans were blasting on full power, but it still felt like they'd been dropped in a desert. No, it was worse than that, actually. At least deserts are dry. It was hot and muggy and disgusting. And of course, their AC was out. The thermostat currently read 98 degrees.

"I'll never leave pudding out of the fridge again," Quinn said.

"Huh?"

"Pudding. This must be what it feels like. All hot and jiggly and gross."

"Your mind goes weird places sometimes."

"Blame it on heat delirium."


	71. Independence

**Independence**

Quinn walked into the apartment building, so happy she wanted to skip. It was her final class! And she'd be graduating in another week. Best of all, she already had a job lined up. Things were looking bright and shiny, and she couldn't wait to have a girls night in with Rachel and Santana.

"I'm home, sexy ladies!" she called. Then she stopped. She could see Santana and Rachel in the kitchen, and it looked like there had been an injury of some sort. "What happened, guys?"

"Rachel Hulked out on some dude on the way home," Santana explained with a grin. She was holding a towel over the youngest girl's eyes.

"He tried to mug me!" Rachel said. "And he didn't even have the decency to pull a gun or a knife. He just thought, 'Hey, that one's tiny. It'll work.' I'm more offended by the laziness than anything."

"She's offended by the…" Quinn muttered to herself, shaking her head. "So what happened?"

"After I pepper sprayed him, I kicked his ass," Rachel summarized. "The police were quite impressed."

"Yeah, they had a good laugh that the lumbering sack of fail got taken down by our tiny ball of sexy here," Santana said. "They stopped laughing when she told them that she's a black belt in Judo, Jui Jitsu, and Akido. They just kind of stared at her in awe at that point."

"Okay, so that doesn't explain what happened to your eyes," Quinn said.

"Santana's being paranoid," Rachel told her. "I got a bit of the spray in my eyes when he tried to bat the can away. I flushed them thoroughly, but she insisted on holding a cool towel to them for a bit to take any residual sting away."

"I takes care of my hobbit!" Santana whined.

"That you do," Rachel said fondly. "Now go pick a movie. You're squashing my sense of independence."

Santana rolled her eyes, but tossed the towel on the counter, gave Rachel a kiss, and complied. She smacked Quinn's ass on the way out of the door.

"You two are something else," Quinn said.


	72. Trapped

**Trapped**

Rachel had never felt truly trapped before. Even in her years at McKinley, she'd seen it as the necessary struggle on her road to superstardom. It had never been something inescapable, because she hadn't wanted to escape—just to overcome. But now, staring at the lights on the highway as the tour bus took them to whatever the hell city was next, she felt trapped.

It had happened sophomore year of college. Quinn transferred to Columbia, and…well, she didn't know how they'd ended up dating. No, that was a lie. She knew. It was the reason she was stuck in a loveless and, at times, abusive relationship with the blonde. She'd been so happy that Quinn had changed, so happy to be friends, that she'd kept saying yes. Yes, I'll go out with you. Yes, I'll sleep with you. Yes, I'll marry you. The problem was that Quinn hadn't changed in a few little ways that made her life hell. She was still super critical. She was ever the perfectionist, and expected perfection from Rachel. Rachel never seemed to pull that off. And Quinn was the star of the family. She never let Rachel forget that she'd made it big first, and that Rachel's success was simply the brunette leeching off of her.

But no one cared. Everyone saw Quinn as the loving, doting wife in public. No one Rachel had told actually believed that there was anything other than bliss under the surface of their very public lives. And Rachel had learned to live with it. Because sometimes…sometimes Quinn would touch her, or look at her, or talk to her like she was the only one in the world who truly mattered. Sometimes…sometimes, things were so good, and the inside matched what they showed on the outside. Sometimes she didn't feel so trapped.

"Hey you."

Rachel let out a deep breath as Quinn came up and held her from behind. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the blonde's arms around her. "Hey."

"What are you over here pondering?" Quinn asked, kissing her cheek. "It's late."

"Just thinking."

"Come on. Let's get some rest. I have press in the morning at the stadium, and I want you with me. You know I can't handle those sharks on my own," she added with a wink.

Rachel smiled the smile she'd been practicing for years. It was fake, and both of them knew it, but it was just real enough to keep Quinn from commenting. "Right behind you, love."

Sometimes….


	73. Food Porn

**Food Porn**

Quinn sat drawing in her sketchbook, trying to finish the assignment for her art class. A pom pom whizzed past her head, and she quirked an eyebrow as Santana walked over. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"The she-devil just let us go. What are you working on?"

"The assignment is food porn. What the hell does that even mean? I didn't really get the lecture. We're supposed to get some kind of glorious inspiration from food?"

Santana grinned. "Let me drive you home. I think I can help."

* * *

When they got back to Quinn's house, Santana immediately fired up her laptop. "There's this site Britts got me into. It's called Tumblr. You'll get the whole food porn thing in a second."

Quinn peeked over her best friend's shoulder as Santana navigated through the website. Her mouth fell open when she looked at the pictures on a blog entitled "Me So Horngry." "Seriously?" she asked. Still and moving pictures attacked her eyes. Pictures of sushi, and cheesecake, and quesadillas, and pancakes, and someone setting the top layer of a cocktail on fire with a lighter, and frosting running down the side of a cake…. It really was like porn.

"Er…can we go eat? This made me super hungry."

Santana laughed. "And there you've found the point. Breadstix time, and you're buying bish."


	74. Easter

**Easter**

Rachel set the fruit platter down on the table as she and Santana made small talk with the other neighborhood parents. Kids raced around them playing and swiping snacks from the various tables.

"You remembered—"

"The camera," Santana finished for her, pulling it out of her pocket. "On it, Tiny. Don't worry."

"We're so glad you could make it today!" one of the moms said. "We normally have a lot more events, but this year the committee's been…well, a little lazy." She glowered over to a few of the other parents who were standing by the drink table. Serving up some bananas for the toddler clutching her leg, she asked, "Have Kayla and Dez been settling in okay?"

"So far, so good," Santana said.

"They were both so excited when they heard about the picnic today," Rachel said.

At that moment, one of the dads called out over a loud speaker. "Could all of the children gather inside the fence for the hunt? Don't forget your baskets!"

Santana snapped a few pictures as Rachel led their twins over to the starting point. She frowned, noticing the parents of older kids hovering near the edges. "Er…Rachel?" she asked when her wife reached her again. "Are you supposed to, like, help them or anything?"

"Don't be silly," Rachel said. "Dez and Kayla are some of the youngest out there, and they're eight years old. Why would they need help?"

"You're right, they wouldn't…. It's just that—"

The whistle blew, and suddenly the tranquil Easter picnic descended into chaos. Parents were screaming egg hunting tips from the sidelines, and throwing things in the way of the other children. Complete mayhem broke out when a few of the dads, unwilling to let their child be left eggless, hopped over the fence and joined the hunt. Other parents joined in as Rachel and Santana looked on in horror. There was pushing and cursing, and Santana had just started over to the fence when Dez ran up to the sidelines, fireman carrying his sister to safety.

"I know I'm not supposed to say this, Momma," he said as he passed Kayla to Santana. "But holy shit!"

Santana looked over at Rachel as her son climbed out of the enclosure. "We've got to move out of crazy town. Stat."


	75. Groceries

**Groceries**

Santana nodded along to the music coming from her headphones as she wandered the aisles of the grocery store. She hated shopping, but Quinn was busy with class work and Rachel had threatened to withhold sex if she didn't get it done this afternoon. She looked down at her smart phone, checking a few things off the list.

Swinging a loaf of bread into the cart, she steered down the baking aisle. Quinn had promised to bake them cupcakes if they got all the stuff for it. Unfortunately, Q was a bit of a baking snob, and Santana had no idea what a few of the items were. No ingredient should have six words in its name.

"Oh!" she said, finally matching the name to an item on the shelf. "It's frosting. Jesus Herpington Christ on a Vauxhall Astra! Nine dollars for less than six ounces of frosting?" she yelped, headphones popping out.

"I know, dear," a little old man said, tossing a couple of containers of sprinkles into his basket. "Daylight robbery, the baking business."

She nodded at him and threw a few of the tubes into her own cart. She made a mental note to ask Quinn what the hell was wrong with plain old Betty Crocker when she got home.


	76. The Fourth

**The 4****th**

The Fourth of July party raged on outside, but Quinn, Santana and Rachel had long since vacated it. They lay in Quinn's bed, the older two grinning down at the youngest.

"How's it going, Rae Bear?" Santana asked, smoothing her girlfriend's hair out of her face.

"I hope…you're both…enjoying yourselves…" she panted. She'd lost official count, but she was pretty sure she was on orgasm nine or ten. Her vision was starting to darken around the edges, and she was pretty sure that they would not, as Quinn hoped, make it to Santana's lucky number 15.

"Immensely," Quinn said. "And we know you are, too."

"Next time we break out the handcuffs," Rachel said sleepily, "you're the one getting locked up."

Santana giggled and unlocked her. "Deal."

"And don't think I don't remember you breaking my headband in your haste to begin our evening of debauchery."

"We'll buy you another one," Quinn said as they snuggled down to watch the fireworks through the window.


	77. Celebration

**Celebration**

There was a fire crackling merrily (on the TV) in the living room. Santana dished up the pasta while Rachel debated between the two bottles of wine that Quinn had brought over.

"Doesn't matter which we start with," the blonde said. "It's not like we won't get through both of them."

"Right?" Santana agreed. "We gots to get our celebration on! Dodging a pregnancy bullet is definitely a two-bottle occasion."

Rachel smiled. Her friends were being flippant at the moment, but she knew they'd been just as worried as her. Quinn had come down as soon as she'd gotten the call, and stayed for the rest of the week. She'd even gone to the doctor's appointment with her. "Okay, Cupcake Moscato it is." She poured three glasses for them.

"To Rae Bear not getting knocked up by the man-whore!" Santana said happily.

Quinn toasted as Rachel laughed. "She's right," Quinn said. "There are already too many parallels in our lives. We can leave that one out for sure."

"Promise us one thing?" Santana pleaded. "Next time you need to get your swerve on? Just call one of us…."

"Santana!"


	78. Senior Prom

**Senior Prom**

Quinn was always amused when she had to teach Tina to walk in high heels. The younger girl wore flats most of the time, and it took about a week's worth of practice each time she got talked into pumps.

"I feel like I'm going to break something," she grumbled, walking slowly but confidently down the stairs.

Quinn smiled up at her. "You look amazing. Come on, Dave's waiting with Blaine in the truck."

"He brought his truck?" Tina yelped, picturing the tall, nearly unreachable monstrosity.

"Just kidding," Quinn told her. "We rented a limo."

Tina poked her. "Mom! We're leaving!" she called.

"Wait! I have to take pictures!" her mom said, running into the foyer.

"Oh for—"

"Don't you even start," Mrs. Cohen-Chang said. "It's your senior prom, and you and your date look beautiful."

She finally let them go after about ten pictures.

Tina slid into the limo, followed by Quinn. After hugging Dave and Blaine, she grabbed one of the complimentary waters. "Let's party!"


	79. Latin Ninja

**Latin Ninja**

Rachel snorted as her phone jolted her out of her light doze. "Erolsljdfijug?" She cleared her throat. "Hello?"

"Come get your girlfriend!" came an annoyed male voice.

She recognized it as Santana's friend Jayden. "What's wrong?" What happened?"

"Tequila happened. Please come take her home…she's getting unruly."

"Where are you guys?" she asked, throwing on some jeans.

"At the Wily Squid on Lincoln."

"Right. Try to keep her from punching anybody. I'll be there in 15."

Rachel grabbed her wallet and rushed out of the apartment.

By the time she made it to the bar, huffing and puffing, she'd decided that Santana was not allowed to drink anymore. She entered the bar in time to see her girlfriend hop on a table and yell,

"I am the ninja! All hail the Latin Ninja!"

"Oh god…" Rachel said, rushing over. "San! Baby, hey! Come down!"

"These people doubt my badassery!" Santana said, starting to cry.

"Don't worry, San," Rachel said, trying not to laugh. "Come on, let's go home. I made cookies!"

The drunk woman's eyes lit up (as much as possible, under the circumstances). "Special Rachel cookies?"

"Yep!"

She hopped/tripped/stumbled down to the sound of raucous laughter and applause. "Are these bitches laughing at me or with me?" she asked Rachel, glaring around.

"With you, honey. Please follow me."

At that, Santana fell flat on her face.

"Come on," Rachel coaxed. "Stand up."

"I am up!" Santana insisted from her spot on the floor. "Completely vertical!"

"Ma'am," one of the bouncers said. "Your friend needs to leave."

"Exactly what does it look like I'm trying to get her to do?" Rachel snapped, hoisting her girlfriend up by an arm. A second later, she let out a relieved breath as Jayden made it over to them and proceeded to fireman carry Santana out of the bar.

* * *

Santana stumbled into the kitchen the next afternoon, looking like hell. "Rae?"

"Water bottles, bagel, aspirin, and go back to sleep," Rachel said quietly.

"Thank you," Santana croaked.

"No problem, Latin Ninja."

Santana's head snapped up. "Huh?"

Rachel just laughed.


	80. Chicken Soup

**Chicken Soup**

Quinn peeked over the top of the couch when she heard the door open. "Hey, San," she croaked.

"Aww, baby…your hair," Santana said fondly.

Quinn turned to look at her hair in the hall's full length mirror. She looked like a lion. "Eurgh…did you have to give me your cold?"

"My bad. Okay, we can call in pizza, or I can make quick chicken soup in the crockpot. Your pick."

"Soup" came Quinn's muffled reply as she flopped back into her mountain of pillows.

"On it, captain."


	81. Rehearsal

**Rehearsal**

"I know it's hard for someone like you to understand how he could choose…someone like me. But he did. It happened. And you can wave that silly little wand around all you want; you can't change it! He. Loves. Me!" Rachel recited. "Ack! Santana!" she yelped as her girlfriend crushed one of the Fiesta eggs over her head. Confetti went everywhere and she glared at her. "Santana, I'm trying to rehearse!"

"I know," Santana said, peering at the script. "But I also know that you've seen Wicked 18 times to date and you know that play back to front. Come on…take a break. I've got Jello shots cooling and Kurt's pulling out the board games. We'll let you pick the movie," she coaxed.

"Maybe…" Rachel said, giving the script another worried glance.

Santana picked her up bride style and stared straight into her eyes. "I know you're scared. It's your first big Broadway role. But you're amazing and you'll be amazing. It's two months away. You can afford to take one night to relax."

Rachel smiled and rested her head on Santana's shoulder. "I suppose. Lead on, Latin Ninja."

"God…I'm never going to live that down."


	82. Morning After

**Morning After**

Santana sipped her coffee and logged on to Facebook. She didn't remember what had happened the night before (or why her girlfriend kept calling her "Latin Ninja"), but she prayed whatever it was hadn't made it online.

It had.

"I'm going to kill them," she groaned, looking at pictures of her top of a police cruiser.

"Serves you right," Rachel sang from the front room.


	83. Hamster

**Hamster**

Santana shuffled down the hall, pulling sweats over her boxers. She wasn't usually up first, but Rachel had gotten in around two a.m., so she made sure to be up to cook breakfast and give her wife a break.

As she passed the twins room, she heard murmuring from inside. Smiling, she was about to knock on the door and see if they wanted to help with breakfast. She stopped though, when she heard her son, Cruz.

"Put it back! We can't play with him too much or he'll get out."

"But…."

"Do you want to get caught? Put him up, he's squeaking."

Santana peeked into the room and let out a gasp. "WHERE did you get that?" she asked opening the door fully.

She was careful to keep her voice down so she didn't wake Rachel. She marched across the room to her kids, squawking as she stepped on a Lego. "SHIT!"

"Two dollars in the potty mouth bucket!" Elana said.

"Where did the two of you get a hamster?" she demanded.

"Elana traded Benji Hamilton for our set of baseball cards."

"Cruz!" the little girl yelped.

"What's going on?" a voice from the doorway asked.

"There's a rodent in our house," Santana grumbled. "Go back to bed, baby. I'll make breakfast."

"It's okay, I'm up now. Get dressed you two," Rachel said. "We're going over to the Hamiltons' to trade him back. Now."

Santana left the room to much groaning and whining. It was too early for this.


	84. Cough Syrup

**Cough Syrup**

Rachel sat in one of the audience seats, trying not to cringe. It wasn't the kids' fault this week had been awful, so she tried to stay upbeat for them. Why she'd thought a modern day revamp of Carousel was a good idea, she'd never know. The composer was an asshole, the orchestra was god awful this go around, and it would take a miracle for her leads to nail the dancing—even if Brittany HAD toned it down for them. She turned when she heard someone coming through the small theater's entrance.

It was Stacia, their nanny. "Sorry, Rachel," she said breathlessly. "The school said they couldn't get a hold of you, Santana, Brittany or Quinn." She set Rachel's five year old son, Keith, in one of the chairs.

"It's fine, Stacia. Thank you. What's going on?"

"Said he's running a fever. I gave him some cough medicine, but I can't stay with him," she said apologetically.

"It's your day off, and you have class," Rachel said, nodding. "I understand. Thank you so much for getting him."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rachel kissed Keith on the head. He was definitely warm. "Ten minutes, buddy, then we'll go home."

He simply nodded, and curled up in the chair, closing his eyes.


	85. Stress Relief

**Stress Relief**

Quinn dug her knuckles into her forehead, trying to relieve the headache she had. She'd made it out of the thickest of the traffic, and was almost home. Thank God…. The day had not gone well, to say the least. It had ended with a staff meeting in which her boss had made some pointed comments that had less to do with her work, and a whole lot more to do with her home life. God, she was glad it was the weekend.

She pulled into the driveway ten minutes later, and smiled for the first time that day. Santana and Rachel's cars were there, as was Brittany's bike. It was always good to come home to her wives. She grabbed her messenger bag and strolled up the driveway to the house.

"I'm home!"

"Hey, baby," Santana said, coming down the stairs. She gave Quinn a slow kiss and pulled her into the hug. "Dinner's on the way. We're up in the game room whenever you're ready."

"Movie night or game night?"

"Game night."

Quinn smiled. "It's Britt's turn to pick right?"

"Oh yeah. And she already did."

Quinn laughed and walked down the hall to the bedroom. She changed quickly, grabbing a couple of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet. As she got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with juice, she could hear loud thumps from upstairs. Brittany and Rachel were probably playing DDR again….

"Hey Quinn!" Brittany said, hugging her when she made it upstairs.

"Hey Ducky," Quinn said, giving her a kiss. "How was school today?"

"The kids were rowdy. I had to be Strict!Brittany. But it's all good. Ready to play?" she asked, nodding to the table.

Quinn looked down and grinned, seeing the enormous toy warship. "Damn straight." She sat next to Rachel and put on the red pirate's hat. Brittany had chosen one of their favorite role playing games—a Steampunk pirate strategy game that was absolutely hilarious.

"We knew you were having a rough day," Rachel said, leaning over for a kiss. "So we figured a friendly family knockdown, drag out would be good for you."

"I'm game master this time!" Brittany said. "Go ahead and roll, Quinn."

She did so, smiling brightly. She loved her girls.


	86. Season's Greetings

**Season's Greetings**

Santana hummed as she strolled down the New York street. She pulled the straps on her backpack a little tighter as she breathed in the chilly air. She was enjoying school a lot more here, but she was still glad it was Christmas. They all needed a break, and due to work schedules, play schedules and general holiday craziness, none of them would be going home this year.

Her lips curled into a smile as she spotted Rachel and Kurt hanging decorations in the window. She had no idea what was going on, but holly and tinsel were flying everywhere. She made her way up the stairs as quickly as she could, eager to get in on the festivities. "Berry! Hummel! Do I need to separate you two?"

Her other two roommates broke apart, laughing.

"Tell Rachel I only want tinsel in the background of our picture!" Kurt said.

"Holly berries would be a subtle but gorgeous accent," Rachel argued. "Right, Santana?"

"Wait a second, picture?" the older woman asked.

"Our holiday picture," Kurt said. "We settled on Season's Greetings for the text."

"How's our favorite future psychiatrist today?" Rachel asked.

"Meh…the subway smelled like fertilizer and I'm pretty sure the carol choir on Greenwich and Hubert is turning a profit that's not going to charity, if you know what I'm saying…. But I'm glad to be back here with you two. And I picked up Christmas movies to watch."

"Aww, that's sweet Santana," Rachel said. "Right, I'm going to get my camera."

"How much you want to bet she makes us take sixty poses?" Kurt asked.

Santana laughed.


	87. Hospital

_**LbN: DarkWolfHunter900 requested Pezberry in a mental hospital. **_

Santana smiled slightly at the receptionist as she signed in. "Hey. How's it going today?"

"Okay. How are you, dear?"

"Same. Wishing she wasn't in here."

The receptionist nodded and buzzed her through without another word.

Clipping her visitor tag on, Santana walked through the sliding door and down the hall. She tried to drown out the various sounds of the mental hospital, but it was hard. This was why she was glad Rachel was on the third floor. Much quieter up there. Her hobbit needed quiet….

There was an attendant stationed at every door on the third floor. The one stationed at Rachel's room was named Arthur. "Hey, King Arthur," Santana said. "Our lady happy today?"

He shook his head sadly. "She had a bad night. Nightmares. I…I haven't been able to get her to eat."

Santana winced. "Did you—"

"Not yet. I thought you might give it a shot before anyone else steps in. She had a few bites at breakfast, but didn't touch her lunch."

"Got it. Could you bring me a tray?"

He nodded as he held up his I.D. card to the sensor and let her in.

"Hey Rach," Santana said softly.

Rachel was sitting on her bed in her gold star footie pajamas, staring at the wall. She looked up as Santana approached and scooted over.

For a second, Santana thought she saw something in those eyes. Those deep, brown eyes that used to hold so much hope and optimism. The old Rachel, struggling to come back to her, maybe? But no….

"I brought something for you," Santana said, taking a DVD copy of Funny Girl out of her backpack. "Do you want to watch it?"

Rachel stared intently at her for a long moment.

Santana forced herself not to look away. "Rach?"

Slowly, the younger girl nodded.

Santana put the movie in and allowed Rachel to cuddle up close to her. She didn't pay attention at all, but prayed that something would happen…that the younger girl would hear Don't Rain on My Parade and suddenly be herself again.

There was a knock on the door. Arthur's arm reached in and set a tray of food on the dresser.

Santana got up and brought it over to Rachel. "You should eat while we watch," she suggested gently.

Rachel glanced down at the tray and back up at Santana. She shook her head.

"Please, Rachel? Just a few bites of salad. Look, lime green jello! That's your favorite, right?"

She nodded slowly again, and after a pause, speared a tomato with her fork.

Santana watched her eat, relief pouring through her.

When the movie was over, Rachel wrapped Santana in a hug. "Tomorrow?" It was the only word she ever spoke.

Santana gently took her face in her hands and kissed her head. "I'll be back. Promise." She gave Rachel one more hug before collecting the tray and exiting the room. She set it on the cart in the hallway and waved at Arthur. "Thanks," she said.

"I should be thanking you. You got her to eat."

"I'll be back tomorrow. Same time."

"Right."

She turned to walk back to the elevator, but stopped when he called after her.

"Her dads have stopped coming," he said quietly. "You're all she has now."

Santana glanced toward door 14 and nodded. "I'll be back."

When she got back to her car, she took a few deep breaths. Out of her wallet, she grabbed a crumpled newspaper clipping. The headline "Bullied Teen Suffers Mental Break" glared at her. She slid down in her seat, unable to stop the sobs any longer.


	88. Muppet Babies

_**LbN: TIGGRAIN requested an explanation to the "Muppet Babies Incident" mentioned in chapter 38**_

The thing about getting drunk with your girlfriends was that everything seemed like a good idea at the time, and there was never anyone to tell you "For the love of god, NO!" Which is how Santana found herself in the middle of a Faberrittana sandwich, watching cartoons and wondering how damn near all of her good vodka was gone.

"We'rejaefkaj…" Quinn mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"We're out. Of Ciroq. Out."

"That's okay," Brittany said. "Why did he knight the rock?"

"Huh?" Santana asked, wiping some tears away. Why the hell were they watching fucking Care Bears? Could they have picked a sadder episode.

"Sir Rock. Why was he a knight?"

"No, Ducky," Quinn said, hiccupping. "C-I-R-O-Q. Ciroq. It's—" she hiccupped again and apparently forgot what was coming next.

"I'm turning this shizz," Santana said, as another episode of Care Bears came on. She settled on Muppet Babies and settled back down.

Rachel woke up at that point. She was obviously still drunk, because she took one look at the screen and screamed bloody murder. In her sleep and vodka induced haze, she tried to run away and ended up flipping over the couch.

"Rae Bear!"

"What the hell?"

"Fuck!"

By some miracle, she was completely fine. But she still scooted away from the TV, curling into a ball when she hit the wall. "What are those unholy demons?" she demanded through sobs. "Will they eat me? Don't let them eat me, Santana!"

Santana turned the TV off and went over to Rachel. "It's okay! They're Muppets," she said, trying to at least sound sober.

"I don't want a Muppet!" Rachel sobbed.

"It's okay. They're gone now."

"I think we should go to bed," Brittany suggested.


	89. Intervention

_**LbN: DarkWolfHunter900 requested a drabble with BacQuinn, BerryDazzler, and BreadTana. :)  
**_

The three girls stood staring at their parents, wondering what fresh hell this family meeting would bring.

"Girls," Judy started. "We want you to know that we're all here today because we love you. We want you to live happy, fulfilled lives."

"Oh god," Quinn said.

"Dad—" Rachel began.

"Please, honey, let us finish," Leroy told her. "We're not trying to gang up on you, or change you. We just think we need to talk about…some of your behavior."

"Is this about the three of us being together?" Santana demanded. "Because we went through this before. I love the pair of them, and we're not changing just because—"

"Hush, _mija_," Maribel Lopez said, taking Santana's hand. "It's not that."

"What we wanted to talk about was…well, you all seem to have some…obsessions," Hiram said.

"Quinn, your love of bacon is hurting your girlfriends," Judy said bluntly. "You get annoyed with Rachel because she won't cook it, and it makes her feel bad. Don't try to pretend it doesn't," she told Rachel.

"And Rachel, your Bedazzling has gotten out of hand," Leroy said.

"Santana," Cristobal said, "Do we really need to talk about how you nearly had a breakdown when Breadstix closed for renovations last month?"

The girls sat, flabbergasted. Finally, Rachel spoke up….

"We're missing Grey's Anatomy for this?"


	90. Insecurities

**Insecurities**

Brittany sat on the swing and cried. She was glad there weren't any kids around to see her—she wouldn't want to scare them. She'd been crying for a while now, and most of the tears were gone. There was just an overwhelming weight of sadness on her shoulders. If she went home, Santana, Quinn and Rachel would be there to cheer her up. Or try, at least, because that was the precise problem today.

They were always there for her. Santana was there to protect her, Quinn was always patient with her when she didn't understand things, and Rachel was the one she could talk to—always. Rachel could have a conversation with her for hours, talking about anything and everything, and she never made her feel stupid. But what was she to them? All of them were super successful. She was just a teacher. A great teacher, but she wasn't a superstar like her girlfriends.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Brittany turned and smiled weakly at Santana.

"What's up, Britt?" the older woman asked gently.

"Why do you guys keep me around?"

Santana nearly fell off of her swing, she reeled back so hard. "What?" she asked.

"You heard me. I don't understand. You're all amazing…and I'm…."

"Just as amazing."

Brittany shook her head and looked back out at the ducks.

"Do you remember when we first moved to New York?" Santana asked. "When everything started going well with our actual careers? We started to fall apart. Quinn, Rachel and I. Rachel's play was taking off, and she was taking out her stress on us. You were the only one who could talk her down for months. When Quinn and I started fighting, you somehow figured out how to put us in time out without actually…you know…making us feel like kids. You, Brittany, are what makes us tick. Or, rather, what keeps us ticking. You know us better than we know ourselves."

She reached over and wiped away the blonde's tears. "Let's go home."

Brittany smiled, and took Santana's hand. "I love you, San."

"We love you too."


	91. Babysitting

**Babysitting**

"Okay, we'll be back tomorrow," Quinn said. "Remember not to let them have too much sugar before bed—"

"We know, Q."

"And Benji's mildly lactose intolerant, so no dairy, just in case."

"We've got it, Quinn."

"And no matter how much he says he likes them, Kane is _not _allowed to watch any scary movies. Unless you want him sleeping in bed with you."

"Quinn, they'll be fine," Brittany assured her. "Right, superheroes! One last hug," she said.

The seven, eight, nine and ten year old ran to her and Quinn, squeezing them both tightly.

"Behave for your Auntie Tana and Aunt Rachel," Quinn told them. "We love you."

"We love you too!" the four children chorused.

"Happy anniversary, guys," Rachel said. "Now go have fun."

Little Brittany tugged on Rachel's sleeve when they left. "Can we go play dolls?" she asked quietly. She was not only the baby of the family, but also the only girl. Named for Brittany, but she was the spitting image of Quinn. She was shy, but loved it when her aunts came to visit.

"Of course, Little Britt!" Rachel chirped. "San, you got the boys?"

It was an unnecessary question, as the older woman already had one in an arm bar and was fending off an air attack from another. The third, Benji, seemed to be refereeing from the couch.

"I think they'll be okay without us for a while," Rachel told the girl.

* * *

"Right, gentlemen and lady," Rachel called, walking down the hall to the living room. "Time for a nutritious, delicious dinner of—SANTANA!"

The game of dolls had gone on for about an hour, culminating in Madeline di Angelo (Raggedy Anne) breaking it off with Kody Armstrong (Sunshine Bear) to pursue her dreams of being an astronaut. During that time, Santana had single-handedly broken every one of Quinn's rules.

She and the boys were sitting on the couch, watching The Thing. Each boy had a bowl of ice cream, sprinkled liberally with M&Ms. Sugar? Check. Dairy for Benji? Check. Horror movies for Kane? Check.

"Hey babe," Santana said, giving her a bright smile.

"Don't you 'hey babe' me!" Rachel said. "No more ice cream, boys! Especially you, Benji."

"I feel fine, Aunt Rachel!" he insisted.

"No more. You'll ruin your dinner. Santana!"

"Auntie Tana's in trouble," Skylar sang under his breath.

* * *

"You brought this on yourself," Rachel said.

They were in the guest room, and had all four kids in bed with them.

"At least they finally got to sleep," Santana said with a yawn.

"Yeah, well…no major catastrophes tonight. I feel like it was a win for us."

"Damn straight."

"Santana!" Rachel said.

"They're asleep!"

The two women were quiet for a moment. Santana had just closed her eyes when she heard Rachel say,

"Maybe it's time for some of our own…."


	92. Pairs

**Pairs**

"Santana! That's not funny!"

Santana laughed as they walked through the streets of Lima. They were all home for Easter break, and had decided to celebrate Quinn's birthday a bit early. She and Rachel had made cupcakes and were headed over, arguing about food the entire way. "Just saying, Rae… every now and then, like when you're shit faced after a pub crawl, all you want is a good, greasy chicken gyro. Or like, when you've had a bad day and all you want is a chili cheese dog from the food cart on 5th."

Rachel stopped dead in her tracks about two houses away from Quinn. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Santana Anastasia…do you eat unethical foodstuffs before you come home to me?"

Santana gave her a winning smile. "Not unless it's an emergency. See my aforementioned drunken pub crawl example." She gave her a kiss on the cheek and they continued to the Fabray house.

It was quiet when they let themselves in, except for some strange noises coming from upstairs.

"I think I just heard Britt's voice," Santana said.

"Let's put everything down and go get them."

Placing the gifts and cupcakes on the coffee table, both girls made their way upstairs to Quinn's room. Santana led the way and opened Quinn's door.

"OHMYGOD!"

"My eyes!" Rachel said, turning away and running back down the hall.

Santana grinned. "Well, well… I'm happy for you, Q, B."

"Santana, get out!" Quinn snapped.

"Why? Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Out, S," Brittany said, pulling a shirt on.

"We've got cupcakes and presents downstairs, so get your asses down there," Santana said, smiling and closing the door.

She found Rachel on the couch watching Beyond Scared Straight.

"Don't even say a word."

"Okay…" Santana said, sitting next to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders. "But you do owe thirty bucks and a trip to Breadstix."


	93. Frosting

**Frosting**

Over the years, the couples had caught each other in various compromising situations…. Walking in on each other in the act was so second nature by this point, that other than an occasional wolf whistle or growl (or ass slapping, because Santana was incorrigible) they didn't even bother to comment on it anymore.

This, however, took the cake. Literally.

"NO!" Rachel said. "You two put your clothes on!"

"Ah, Rachel…don't be jelly," Santana said with a grin.

"This is highly unsanitary! And I just baked that!"

"Rachel, I'm begging you," Quinn panted. "Come back in like, five minutes."

Brittany smiled and tugged Rachel down the hall to their room. "It looked like fun," she said.

"But the kitchen, Brittany? My kitchen!"

"Maybe the counter top was a little much," Brittany conceded with a smile, "but I've always wanted to lick frosting off of you…so I can't judge too hard."


	94. Pregnancy

**Pregnancy**

Santana had been wonderful. Rachel knew how spoiled she was, and how much her wife had, for the most part, been enjoying doing it. With the notable exception of the two hour drive for tacos at midnight, Rachel's pregnancy had been relatively low key. She knew she could ask for anything, within reason, and Santana would get it for her with a smile.

Today, however, she was having an emotional time of things. She wanted nothing more than for Santana to come cuddle with her, but she also wanted her wife to have some down time. She'd been so amazing…Rachel knew she probably needed a break.

She sniffed, a few tears slipping out.

As if drawn by Rachel's distress, Santana appeared in the doorway a second later. "Baby? What's up?"

Rachel, crying freely now, shook her head. "Nothing," she said, tears still flowing. "I don't want to bother you."

"Bother me? Honey, it's fine. All I'm doing is reading stupid satire articles on The Onion," she said with a smile. She sat next to Rachel on the bed and pulled her close. "What's wrong, sexy momma?"

"You're amazing, and I'm being needy, and I want you to read The Onion if you want to read The Onion, and not have to worry about me, and—" She stopped as Santana gently put a finger to her lips.

"Okay, woman, listen," she said, smirking. "Those are my munchkins in there." She pointed to Rachel's enormous belly. "And thus, it is my job to make sure that the three of them and their mommy have everything they need. It's a job I take seriously, and one I do happily. So no more tears, pretty lady. The Onion will still be there after I go on an ice cream run, or rub your feet, or whatever you need."

Rachel smiled as Santana wiped her tears away. "You're the best."

"Damn straight."

"Santana!" Rachel said, putting her hands on either side of her belly as if protecting the collective group's ears.

Santana chuckled and hugged her. "Anything I can get you?"

"Just you. Hold me?"

"Always."

"Do you think Quinn will make it back from India in time for the delivery?"

"Please? Knowing Q, she'd straight up hijack a plane before missing the birth of her god-babies. No worries there. It's almost time for dinner," Santana said, glancing at the clock.

"Don't move. I'm not done cuddling."

She smiled and kissed the top of Rachel's head as she pulled out her phone. "I got you. See? Online ordering for the win. Two spinach-strawberry salads and a side of roasted carrots. Pasta or rice?"

"Bring on the noodles."

With a few more taps of her smartphone's screen, Santana declared dinner on the way. She placed both hands on Rachel's stomach as the younger woman drifted into a light sleep.


	95. War Games

**War Games**

Santana rung out her t-shirt at the edge of the riverbank, trying to ignore the croaking of the frogs. They'd been on the run all day after raiders had discovered their hideout. Sweating profusely and desperately hungry, she turned to where Rachel was rewrapping a cut on her leg and scouring the arena's map.

"We need to figure out a strategy, S."

"Easy, tiger," Santana said. "The first thing we need to do is find food. We're in this area, right?" she asked, pointing to the upper right hand quadrant of the map.

"Yeah. Just here," Rachel said, tapping the space closest to the river.

"Then there should be a supply checkpoint not to far south. You stay here and try to fix our radio—"

"With masking tape and some string? That'll take a miracle."

"—and I'll go see if I can grab some food without being noticed."

"We shouldn't split up. That's part of what got us in trouble last time."

Santana stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Come on. Let's get in the cover of the trees."

They hoisted their packs and guns, and walked back to where the woods began to thicken.

"Hey, S?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you and Quinn try to talk me into a three day long paintball war? Remind me to just say no."


	96. Reaction

**Reaction**

Rachel had never been this afraid in her life. She was too scared to even beat herself up over the events of the day.

It hadn't been a big fight. Just a small couples argument that both had been too stubborn to apologize for. In the end, Santana had left for her conference on childhood poverty, and Rachel had called some theater friends to go have drinks. She'd been at the bar when she got the call.

"_Mrs. Lopez? This is Edmund Tucker. I'm a doctor at Mercy General. Your wife came in a just a few minutes ago, suffering from a severe allergic reaction."_

It was pretty straight forward. The dinner at the conference was a fancy surf & turf deal. Santana had asked for the steak, without shrimp, and according to everyone at the table, had told the waiter about her allergy. They'd forgotten, but instead of cooking her a new steak, had just scraped the shrimp off the top. Two bites in, Santana was on the floor.

Rachel sat next to her unconscious wife, wishing she could take back all of the stupid things she said that afternoon. The two of them never fought—so why did she pick tonight to change that?

Santana stirred.

Rachel was up and at her side in two seconds flat. "Santana?"

"Rae?" she croaked.

"Shh, don't talk. Your throat…. I'll call your nurse."

"Don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere."


	97. Peace

**Peace**

Quinn closed her eyes behind her sunglasses as the light breeze swept over her. She could hear children laughing a few gardens over, and could smell burgers cooking on a grill. She opened her eyes when she heard the door open behind her. "Hey San," she said calmly.

"Hi babe," Santana said, leaning over to kiss her. She set the tray of margaritas down on the table between the two lawn chairs and sat down. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself out here, so I thought I'd join you."

"Absolutely," Quinn said. "For the first time in years, I don't have anything to worry about. No family drama, no work deadlines, no random car crashes…. It's great."

Santana took a sip of her drink and smiled, happy that her girlfriend had finally found some peace.


	98. Myth

**Myth**

Breakfast at the spacestation was a subdued affair. Most of the rangers were a wreck, either from a sleepless night on patrol, or a sleepless night worried about the patrollers. Everyone came back fine that morning, but that didn't stop the rumors.

Quinn and Santana stuck close to Rachel, though none of the girls said a word. They all looked up as their general, a graying fifty year old woman built like a bull, took the stage.

"Listen up, all of you," she said. "I know there's been some rumors going around. Rumors about a beast. Some gargantuan space monster that killed Kurt and is coming back for us all…."

Her derisive tone made the three girls flinch. They weren't over the loss of their friend, not by a long shot. And hearing his name in that tone was like a tiny sliver of ice piercing each of their hearts.

"Let me tell you now," General Kanke said. "There is no beast. You are Rangers of the Third Division. You are the most brave, selfless soldiers Earth has to offer to the Intergalactic Safety Force. I will not have a silly myth tarnish our reputation. When you go out onto the plains, when you take up post on the moons, you will not behave like a bunch of quivering milkmaids. I won't have it. You'll be shipped back home on the next transport. There is nothing to be frightened of. There is. No. Beast."

It was at that point that the power went out.


	99. Sherlock

**Sherlock**

"So, how was it working with your wife on the show?"

"It was fantastic!" Santana told Ellen. "She's so much fun on set, and it was great to basically push each other and bounce energy off each other."

"Just to bring our audience up to speed," Ellen said. "Santana and Rachel both star in the new, all female remake of Sherlock Holmes."

"Mostly female," Santana corrected. "We did keep a few of the characters male. Lestrade, Sebastian Moran, and a few others."

"But you guys produced it, is that right?"

"Right. We wanted to work together on a project—me, Rachel, Quinn Fabray, and Mercedes Jones. So we did a Kickstarter to raise some money, filmed the pilot… ABC picked us up, and here we are!"

"And what's it like watching Rachel play a complete sociopath?"

"On set? Not that bad. You're in the moment, but it's all very artificial—with the cameras and the crew and everything. However, going back and watching it on tape? Terrifying."

The audience laughed.

"Tell us about the fish joke."

"Oh god…" Santana said, rolling her eyes. "You probably all know this, but Rachel started off on Broadway. She still preps for characters like she's on stage—getting into their heads on a whole different level than anyone I've ever met. So she got it into her head that Moriarty has an aquarium full of fish, and then a smaller fish bowl on his desk. And about once a week he poisons the fish on his desk. Just for grins, because he never got out of the whole 'torturing animals phase' of his crazy development."

"That's terrifying!"

"I know right! So at first it was just a once off thing in the second episode when she asks my character, Irene Adler, to buy her another fish. But it became a thing pretty quickly."

"What's your favorite scene?"

"I won't give you all the context, because it's from next week's episode and I don't want to spoil anyone…but we play the most suggestive game of chess in the history of ever."

There were wolf whistles and applause at this.

"Like seriously…it's ridiculous. I'm not sure how we got away with it, but it was fun to shoot."

"Well, I'm now looking forward to next week immensely," Ellen said, grinning. "_Sherlock and Moriarty _comes on Wednesdays at seven. Stick around—we're playing Trivia Tank with Santana Lopez when we come back!"


	100. RENT

**RENT**

"No."

"Santana—"

"No."

"Santana!"

"No."

"Santana Anastasia Lopez!" Rachel yelped, flipping off the TV.

Santana flailed for a second to hit the pause button on her game. "What in the he—"

"All I want is for you to come to a show with me!" Rachel huffed.

"And we talked about this," Santana said patiently, walking towards Rachel to get the remote control back. "You used up your monthly Broadway Date Allowance. Funny Girl revival, Wicked—again—and Jersey Boys. That's it. I don't have any musical tolerance left in me."

"But San," Rachel whined. "This is for school! We're doing RENT next term, and I need to research if I'm going to give the role of Maureen—"

"Oh for god's sake, Tiny!" Santana said, exasperated. "Fine. I'll go to that RENT showing with you…."

"YES!"

"On one condition…. Next month is the Game of Thrones paintball tournament—"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"And as a surprise to exactly no one, I've been picked to represent House Stark."

"Hell no."

"I'm not suggesting you actually play."

"I'm not falling for that one again!" Rachel said, dodging Santana's attempt to steal the remote. "This is one of the crazy ones where everyone's playing whether they have a weapon or not, isn't it? I got kidnapped and held ransom last time, Santana!"

The older woman rolled her eyes. "Please. It's not like you were traumatized or anything. All you had to do was watch from the other side until I rescued you."

Rachel side-eyed her. "One game?"

"One game," Santana confirmed, grinning.

"And you promise to rescue me again—promptly—if I'm kidnapped?"

Santana crossed her heart.

Rachel huffed. "Fine," she said, tossing the remote back to her girlfriend. "Show starts at eight tomorrow."

"I'll be there!" Santana chirped, resuming her game.


	101. Tango

**Tango**

Santana walked up the stairs to one of NYADA's dance studios. She was much happier on this visit than the last time she'd been here—though she'd fully admit that she rocked Paula Abdul.

She made it to the third floor and stood near the door of the studio. She recognized Garret, the head dance instructor, moving around correcting various steps. Then she saw Rachel and smiled. Then her mouth dropped open.

She wasn't sure what they were practicing, but whatever it was, Rachel and her dance partner were winning. Hard. "Oh my sweet Jesus…."

Music could be heard from the room, and she recognized it as one of the songs from RENT. Rachel had played the soundtrack incessantly for a week after they saw it.

Finally, the music stopped. The instructor spoke with them for a minute, and then the students began to file out. Rachel was last to leave, and rushed to hug Santana.

"Hi…oh, sorry! I'm all sweaty."

"Trust me, I like you that way," Santana said smirking.

Rachel laughed. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to know I have a favorite dance." She peeked back into the studio. "Teach me?"

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Sure."

* * *

It had been cute at first, Rachel had thought. Santana would grab her every once in a while in the apartment, and they'd tango to whatever was on. Her personal favorites had been the Mario Party theme and Down With the Sickness.

Now, however, it was getting old.

"Santana, what the—"

"Dance with me!"

"You're like a five year old!"

"Please?"

"We are not dancing in the middle of Starbucks!"


	102. Kitchen Aid

**Kitchen Aid**

"Morning, Santana!" Rachel chirped, kissing the lawyer on the cheek.

"Hey, Rae Bear. Your coffee's on the table," she said, nodding to the far side of the kitchen.

"Thanks. I'm going to need it."

"Long day ahead?"

"I'm teaching three dance classes, and then I have to go to rehearsal. Then I get to go back to NYADA for two acting classes."

"She works hard for the money," Santana sang, serving two plates of fake eggs and fake bacon.

Rachel laughed. "How long will you be gone?" she asked, pouting.

"Just three days. I'll be back on Friday morning."

"Just? Three days is quite long enough," Rachel said. She wrapped her arms around her wife and kissed her shoulder. "I won't know what to do with myself—get your mind out of the gutter!" she added quickly, seeing Santana's leer.

"You put it there," Santana retorted, handing Rachel her plate.

"Hey baby?" Rachel said as they sat down to eat. "I'm thinking of buying us a Kitchen Aid."

"A who?"

"A Kitchen Aid. You know? One of those big mixer thingies."

"Oh, got it. Mmkay."

"It's okay? We don't necessarily need it, but it would facilitate cupcake baking."

"Well first? I'm for anything that helps bring more of your famous Nutella-raspberry cupcakes into the world. Second, you don't have to ask my permission, babe."

"I'm just making sure you're involved in the decision making process. They're expensive gadgets, and money is one of the top stressors in relationships. It's—"

"Shhh…" Santana said, before Rachel could really pick up steam. "I know, babe. And thank you for respecting me…er…financially. But it's all good. It's not like we won't both use it. Go on, get your bake on," she said with a wink.

Rachel smiled brightly at her, and started in on her breakfast.

* * *

Santana strolled into the apartment on Friday, tired but happy. They'd won the case, she was back home, and her hobbit had made cupcakes the night before, according to Kurt's taunting text message. She kicked off her shoes and shrugged off her jacket. She slid in her socks into the kitchen and spotted the plate of cupcakes. But the sight next to them made her stop short.

There, in pink sequined glory, was their new Kitchen Aid.

She closed her eyes hard, sure she was hallucinating from a mixture of fatigue and caffeine. Nope. It was still there. Pink. With sequins. She took her cupcake and went into the living room. She ate it in one bite as she sent Rachel a text.

_What is that pink monstrosity in our kitchen?_

Rachel texted back almost immediately. _Special edition! And it was on sale!_

Santana sighed and smiled. What was she going to do with her hobbit?


	103. Adopting

**Adopting**

Quinn and Santana had known as soon as the adoption agency had told them that their baby had an older brother and sister. They'd shared a brief look, and in that nanosecond decided that there was no way in hell they were splitting those kids up.

Quinn walked into the older children's side of the home with one of the social workers. So far they'd met their baby (Elijah) and their three year old daughter, Sahara, but they'd yet to meet their oldest son.

"We tried to explain," Miss Rourke said. "But he wouldn't listen. He thinks you're taking the little ones, but not him."

Quinn smiled and nodded. "It's okay. In here?" she asked, pointing to the door that read "Asa and Connor" on a bright blue star.

"That's him. Connor's with his tutor, so you can talk to him alone. I'll be just here by the door."

Quinn knocked and opened the door. "Asa?"

The small eleven year old looked up. He had a lighter complexion than his brother and sister, but the same nose, grey eyes, and curly black hair. "Yes?"

"Hi. I'm Quinn," she said, sitting in the chair by the desk.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You're adopting my brother and sister. You and your wife."

She nodded. "That's right. And—"

"Just remember not to feed him after eight. He gets baby indigestion. And Sahara's allergic to peanuts, and she likes Winnie the Pooh, but _not _the Heffalumps episode. She had nightmares for weeks."

Quinn let him finish giving her tips about his siblings, noticing that he was obviously trying not to cry. "Well, I'll keep all of that in mind," she said finally. She smiled at him, and took his hand. "But we were wondering…since we're adopting the little guys…maybe you'd want to make our family complete?"

He blinked at her. "What…what are you asking?"

"We want to adopt you too, Asa."

He stared at her for a long moment, then scooted off the edge of the bed to hug her.

When Santana came up a few minutes later, Quinn was still holding the sobbing boy. She smiled at her wife and nodded. She couldn't wait to take her family home.


	104. Spring Cleaning

**Spring Cleaning**

Brittany gave each of the kids a high five and a sticker as they left the dance studio. She spotted Santana near the door as they filed out with their parents.

"Somehow, teaching eight year olds hip hop is the cutest thing on the planet," Santana said, walking over to her girlfriend.

"Yeah…until their dads come in and have a heart attack over the 'skank moves'," Brittany replied. "I toned it down as much as possible, but it's like you can't win with the parents sometimes."

"Hey," Santana said gently, "You are an awesome teacher. The kids love you. Don't worry about the politics. I know, Rae knows, and you know how much you care about these girls, and that you'd never have them do anything you thought was inappropriate. The dads can have all the panic attacks they want. You've got this."

Brittany leaned over and kissed her. "Thanks, S. Speaking of Rae, what was she up to today? She told me she took the day off."

"No idea. I left before both of you, and the firm picked today to go cray on every single marketing account. Let's go find our hobbit and see. Knowing her, she's got some scheme cooking."

"Or she's bedazzled all of your tank tops again," Brittany said with a grin.

"She's evil."

"You learned your lesson, didn't you?"

"I will never speak a negative word about RENT ever again."

The blonde laughed as she hopped into Santana's SUV.

They chatted aimlessly as they drove through the quiet suburban neighborhood. When they turned onto their street, however, Brittany got quiet.

"B? What do you think about the—"

"Turn around, S!"

"What? What?" Santana asked, looking wildly around for zombies or aliens. She didn't see anything except for their driveway. Which was covered in stuff from the garage. "Oh shit! She's doing spring cleaning!"

"Turn around before—"

But it was too late. Rachel had bounded out of the house and was waving at them in her bright orange clown serial killer gloves.

"Fuck." Santana pulled up near the curb and hopped out.

"I'm so glad you two are back!" Rachel chirped. "I trust you both had fulfilling days at your respective places of employment. I've already deep cleaned both upstairs and the kitchen—"

"ALL of upstairs?" Santana squeaked.

"Now I just need your help with the garage, and we can finish downstairs tomorrow."

They gaped at her for a second, before each taking her by one of the arms and basically carrying her into the house.

"What are you both doing? Unhand me!"

"No can do, hobbit," Santana said.

"Yep, sexy times now!" Brittany said.

"All of our stuff's in the driveway!" Rachel wailed.

"Calm it down, Tiny. We'll get it later."


	105. Count the Days

**Count the Days**

Rachel marked another day off on her calendar as Quinn strolled into the apartment. "There's my favorite manager," Rachel said, waving at her best friend.

"I'm your only manager," Quinn said, plopping down on the couch next to her.

"Doesn't diminish my feelings one bit."

"You're only saying that because I got you this recurring role on SVU."

"I'm so glad Benson's finally out of the closet."

"You're just happy you get to play the love interest."

"Preach. But the fans are going to be pissed as hell when I—"

The song "S&M" started blasting from Rachel's phone.

"Oh dear lord," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Let me get out the egg time before you talk to Santana."

"Hello?" Rachel said, laughing.

"Hey Rae!"

"Where are you?"

"My hotel in London. I wish you were here," she said softly.

"I know…but I still have two more weeks of filming."

"Eurgh," Santana sighed dramatically. "Fourteen more days of torture."

"Then you're taking me shopping in Tokyo."

"Damn straight, baby girl!"

"I miss you."

"I miss you more."

"No, I definitely miss you more."

"For fuck's sake," Quinn yelled from the kitchen.

"Tell Q to shut it. Okay, I'm going to get ready for the show. We start in two hours, and I have to go do soundcheck."

"Okay. Call me tomorrow?"

"Promise. Love you."

"Love you more."

"Love you more."

Quinn made gagging noises as she brought the bowl of popcorn into the room.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Bye baby. Fourteen more days…."

"Countdown is on."


	106. Starry Night

**Starry Night**

She lay still, holding both of their hands and smiling. It had been her thing for a long time, but surprisingly enough, she hadn't hesitated to share it with them. She took a deep breath, feeling completely at peace as they stared up at the starry sky.

"Hey, Rach?"

"Yes, Santana?"

"How do you know so much about constellations?"

She smiled over at her. "I'll tell you, but you both have to promise not to go all Guilty McGuiltton on me."

"I'll try."

"Impossible for me, and you know it," Quinn said with a smirk. "However, I promise to stay poker faced so I don't burden you with it."

Rachel rolled her eyes and sat up. "At the end of freshman year, when the…bullying really started to take off, I came up here for a cry. I'd calmed down a lot by the time my dads got home, and one of them asked me what I'd been doing up on the roof. I didn't want them to worry, so I said I was looking for constellations. As both of you know, Daddy was a Boy Scout, so he still had some of his old handbooks. One of them was on constellations, and he gave it to me. It's been a hobby ever since."

"Do you…only do it when you're sad?" Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel shook her head. "No, in fact I do it mostly when I'm happy. It's…calming. Helps me relax after a long day, or when I just want to stop for a moment."

The three girls were silent for a long while. Finally, Rachel slid back down in the sleeping bag between them and said, "I'm glad it's something I can share with you."

"We are too, Rach," Santana said.


	107. Homecoming

**Homecoming**

"Oh my god," Quinn said, laughing. "This place hasn't changed a bit."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "It's kind of horrifying," she said as they entered the bathroom. "It still smells like McKinley."

"That generic smell of disinfectant and fluorescent lighting," Quinn agreed, leaning against the sink.

"Didn't you have to go to the bathroom?" Rachel asked.

"No. I was just starting to get overwhelmed out there. Plus…I wanted to talk to you." She took something out of her purse and held it behind her back. "Which bathroom is this?"

"Huh?"

"Which bathroom is this?"

"Second floor bathroom between the stairs and the Spanish classroom," Rachel said.

"What happened here?"

Realization dawned and Rachel smiled. "Everything. From random encounters to our little confrontation at prom…. You told me about Yale here. We promised to stay in touch here. Though, after sophomore year those Metro North Passes were used mostly for booty calls," she added with a smirk.

"Hey, I bought you dinner a few times!"

Rachel laughed and hugged her.

Quinn caught what she was doing and quickly pulled her into the hug so she wouldn't be able to peek over her shoulder at what she was holding. "Nice try, Berry."

"Can't blame a girl, can you?"

"Guess not. But it's safe to say that this place means a lot to both of us. I mean…the whole school has history for us, but somehow all of our turning points took place in a bathroom. This bathroom."

"Oddly enough, yes."

"Which is why," Quinn began, finally revealing the ring box. "This may not be the most romantic of locations, but for us it's definitely appropriate."

Rachel gaped at her. "Quinn?"

"I'd get down on one knee, but this is McKinley…. Rachel," she said opening the box, "I love you more than I can eloquently articulate at the moment, given my nerves. Will you marry me?"

Rachel grinned brightly and threw her arms around Quinn. "Yes!"

Quinn sagged a little with relief, but held her girlfriend—fiancé—tightly. "Epic."

"Only you would think to propose in a bathroom…."


	108. Watch Over Me

**Watch Over Me**

Too many times the evening had ended like this: as cold and lonely and shameful as her body was sated. Rachel, after kicking the busty redhead out, replayed the last year in her mind. She couldn't even remember the names of most of the women. She didn't know why she kept doing this—it never made the loneliness go away. In fact, it made it worse. Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry.

She watched the snow fall outside, unable to sleep. After about an hour, she heard the key turn in the lock. "Kurt's back," she mumbled to herself, finally closing her eyes.

The bed dipped behind her a minute later, and a pair of arms wrapped around her.

Her eyes snapped open. She looked down and then around. "Santana! What—"

The older woman held one finger to her lips. "I'm here to watch over you."

"What's that mean?" Rachel asked, turning back toward the window.

"It means a little birdie told me about your 28 conquests, and while part of me is hella impressed, the other part knows that you hate it."

"I'm going to kill Kurt."

"No you won't. He loves you, and he was worried. Just like me. I love you. You could have called me when you were lonely," she finished quietly, holding Rachel a little tighter.

"I couldn't…I didn't know how. After everything that happened, I thought you hated me."

Santana shook her head and kissed her shoulder. "Goodnight, Rach."

Rachel finally let the tears fall. "Night, Santana."


	109. Senior Prank

**Senior Prank**

"Santana…."

"Sup, babe?"

Quinn moved a little closer to her girlfriend on the bed. "I had a really weird, kind of stupid idea."

"Those are always the best," Santana said, grinning and throwing an arm around her. "What is it?"

"I want to do a senior prank that isn't really a prank. I want to do something cool for the school. And I think we should get Rachel and Puck involved."

"I'm scared to ask."

Quinn smiled.

* * *

The next Monday, Tina found Blaine and Sam at the former Warbler's locker. "Hey guys! Have you seen Quinn or Rachel? I have a question for them."

"Haven't seen either of them, actually," Sam said.

"I didn't see Rachel's car in the parking lot, but she might have come to school with Puck."

"Okay, thanks. They're the only two I know who took AP Chem last year, and I need help before the test tomorrow. Ready for geography?"

The three of them got to their class just as the warning bell was ringing. They picked seats near the back and started passing notes as the rest of the class filed in. About five minutes into class, however, they stopped.

Many students rushed to the door, even though their teacher tried to get them back in their seats.

"What is that?"

"It sounds like the music ice cream trucks play," Blaine said, joining the rush of students to the door.

When they got out in the hall, they saw Puck on a bicycle. He was wearing a red and white striped uniform, and had one of those big, three wheeled baby carriages connected to the back of the bike. He was cheerfully handing out candy and ice cream from the cooler inside the carriage.

Sam doubled over laughing as Blaine and Tina joined the queue for treats.

* * *

It happened once per class period, alternating between Puck, Rachel, Santana and Quinn. When the quartet made it to glee, their fellow club members gave them a standing ovation as they passed out cookies.

Mr. Schue just laughed. "Okay, whose idea was it?"

The three of them pointed at Quinn.

She shrugged. "Too many senior pranks involve hurting the school or the students in some way. We wanted to do something nice for everyone."

"How did you guys get away with it?" Mercedes asked. "I can't believe Figgins didn't stop you."

"He probably would have," Santana said, "Had he not been the first delivery. Rachel made him a cookie bouquet."


	110. Pictures

**Pictures **

Quinn tried to ignore her roommate and half the volleyball team in their room. She wasn't studying, but she had a short story due for the school newspaper the next day. Sure, she had headphones on, but it was hard to write to Evanescence. She took her earphones out and stretched.

"Hey Quinn? Who's this?" one of the volleyball girls asked. She had sidled up to the blonde's desk and picked up a picture of her and Santana.

It was one of those flashback sets. The first picture was of them when they were seven. They were wearing matching blue sundresses and holding stuffed koalas at the zoo.

"That's Santana, my girlfriend."

There was a very pointed silence.

"Yes, I meant girlfriend as in the dating type," Quinn clarified, looking up from her computer. She caught the "See? Told ya" looks that passed between the girls. Barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she picked up her phone.

_Miss you. Xo, Q_

_**Miss you too. Everything okay?**_

_Thinking about transferring to Columbia. The whole living with Rachel thing might be a little intense, but at least it's intensity I'm used to._

_**Roommates still looking at you sideways?**_

_I'm going to assume that means are they being passive aggressive? And in that case, yes._

_**Need me to cut anyone?**_

_Unnecessary, but thanks. Are you doing anything this weekend?_

_**Seeing you?**_

_I'll be down there Friday night. _

She glanced at the picture of them and smiled.


	111. Pain

**Pain**

The Lopez family called it The Breakup. Anyone else got a divorce or broke up with their significant other? It was so and so's divorce or "Oh, hey, John and Clara are on the rocks." But the fiery ball of suck that was Santana and Rachel's breakup? It was THE Breakup.

She took a sip of her beer and flipped through the channels until she found the Tony Awards. There she was—her Rachel. She took another sip as the actress took the stage. That was the other thing. Her uncle had said more than once that he was surprised that she hadn't become an alcoholic. Her mom chalked it up to her growing up and moving on and finding herself…yada yada. Really, it was far simpler than that. She'd been wrong, and she didn't deserve anything that would numb the pain at all.

"Santana?"

"Hey! There's my tiny superhero," she said as her godson ran in. "Come watch the award show with me."

"Who's that?"

"That is the best singer and best actress in the whole world. Her name is Rachel Berry."

"Who's that girl she just sat next to?"

"That's Quinn. Her wife." She let him snuggle in next to her and hugged him.


	112. Reunion

**Reunion**

"Santana?"

Santana looked up from wiping her son's mouth to find Quinn Fabray goggling at her. "Q? What the hel—heck?" she corrected. "Since when do you live in Denver?"

"I got a job with a publishing company. You're looking at Zombie Ink's newest editor." She smiled down at the little boy. "And what's your name?"

"I'm Joffrey," the boy said, reaching for his milkshake.

Quinn quirked an eyebrow at Santana. "Game of Thrones?"

Santana shrugged. "He came out blonde as shit," she said, covering his ears.

"How old is he?"

"Four next week."

"Four. So right around the time—"

"Not here, Q."

The two stood staring at each other for a long moment.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. You ever get with Berry?" she asked.

"Briefly. And then she dumped me for her PR-mance with Jennifer Lawrence."

Santana facepalmed. "Do you have time to catch up?"

Quinn shook her head. "I have a meeting with a client. But we should do dinner soon. I can give you my number."

Santana nodded and dug through her purse for a pen. She shifted some spilled Flintstones vitamins to the side and grabbed it and a notepad.

"Or we could just put the numbers in our phones," Quinn suggested with a smirk.

Santana paused, and then laughed. "What can I say? I kick it old school. Give me your number, Fabray."

They exchanged numbers and slightly awkward hugs. Quinn nodded slightly to Joffrey before she left. "I want the full story at some point."

Santana smiled. "Don't worry. You'll get it."


	113. Scorpion

**Scorpion**

Rachel shot another scorpion with wasp killer and wondered, for the 100th time, why on earth she'd agreed to shoot a film in Texas. "Santana!" she called.

"What's up, Rach?"

"I need you on insect duty!"

Santana appeared in the doorway of the kitchen a moment later. She smirked and shook her head, "I don't get how you're perfectly fine with killing them, but you won't throw them away," she said, grabbing the dustpan and a newspaper.

"I went to throw one away last week and it came back to life and stung me!" Rachel said, holding up here hand. There was a bright pink Strawberry Shortcake bandaid on it.

"I'm trying very hard not to roll my eyes," Santana said. "Are you going to be around for lunch?"

"Yep! I don't have to be on set until two. What should we have?"

"Chili-cheese and bacon hot dogs?" Santana suggested.

Rachel turned and gave her a Look. Then she smiled, "If I ever find out that you actually ate one of those, I won't put out for a month."

"Bring on the veggies!" Santana cried, utterly terrified.

"That's what I thought."


	114. Don't Ask

**Don't Ask**

Quinn came home and immediately stopped in the front hall. There was now way to explain any of what she saw. Santana and Rachel were asleep on the couch. Strewn around them were feathers from Rachel's lucky purple boa, a dictionary, curling iron, eight thongs, a can of WD-40, the box from their frozen waffles, Quinn's entire collection of Futurama action figures and the stuffed unicorns Santana won them at the fair. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Opening them again, she slowly maneuvered her way through the mess (stepping on a Lego in the process) and went to her room to change.

Santana opened one eye and peeked down the hallway. "Twenty bucks says she doesn't even make it until dinner time before she asks."

"Double or nothing, right before bedtime."

"Should we make up a story at all?"

"I'm pretty sure that's pointless. She probably knows by now that we're just screwing with her…."


	115. Unlovable

**Unlovable**

Santana found her sitting on a bench at the end of the pier. She was still in her wedding dress, staring out at the waves and throwing her flowers into the tide, petal by petal.

"Quinn…."

"It's okay, S. I'm not going to jump or anything."

Santana moved closer to her and put a hand on her back. "He's an idiot, Q."

Quinn gave a mirthless laugh. "Don't worry about it, S. It's not important. Just the final piece of evidence that I'm completely unlovable."

"Don't say that—"

"What? It's true. My father left me, my mother left me…. And now my fiancé literally leaves me standing at the altar. Unlovable."

Santana grabbed her into a hug and kissed the side of her head. "That's not true."


	116. Apology

**Apology **

Santana was stressed to the point of popping mints out of nerves. She'd gone through seven cans of Altoids already.

"Would you like my help?" Rachel asked for the fifth time that week. She'd asked once per day since The Incident, ignoring Santana's scathing replies.

Now though? Santana was desperate enough to swallow her pride and say, "Yes please."

Rachel smiled, and Santana immediately calmed down. It wasn't a smug smile or a superior smile or an excited!Berry smile. They younger girl genuinely wanted to help.

Santana sat up and patted the seat next to her. She also popped another mint.

"Right. I know you hate discussing feelings, so we'll stick to the practical."

Santana nodded vigorously.

"So…Quinn's pissed at you. Do you think you were in the wrong?"

"Yes," Santana admitted after hesitating only slightly.

"Okay. And she's ignoring your calls and texts?"

"Unfortunately."

"Not to worry. I think I have a plan."

* * *

Quinn sat bored in her Econ class, debating texting Santana back. She wasn't mad anymore, really. Just frustrated.

The door opened and a man came in with a bouquet of…

"I have lilacs for a… Quinn Fabray?"

* * *

"Remind me why we're doing this again?"

"Because," Rachel explained. "You need to show her that her feelings and interests matter too. And that you're willing to go out on a limb for her every once in a while."

Santana nodded and put on the jester hat. "Right. Game on, motherfuckers. Q's totally worth the occasional loss of dignity." She picked up the box and marched out of the room.

Rachel watched her go, shaking her head and smiling.

* * *

Quinn had received something in each of her three classes that day. Her favorite flowers in Econ, her favorite movie in Film Analysis. She would've thought that one was a coincidence if Professor Blair hadn't winked and handed her a note saying it was for her from a friend. And she'd gotten her favorite sandwich on the way to French 302. The Jimmy Johns delivery guy had been waiting just outside the classroom for her.

By the time she got to Modern Japanese Civ, she was looking wildly around for the next surprise. Nothing had happened so far, though. With ten minutes left, she figured all of her surprises were done for the day.

Until the door opened and Harley Quinn walked in.

"Package for Quinn Fabray!"

"Oh my god, Santana," Quinn whispered. She turned red as everyone turned to stare at her.

Santana made her way through the desks to deposit the box on Quinn's. in it were six cookies, all decorated as her favorite comic books. Two of them read "I'm Sorry."

"For you," Santana said with a wink.

"See you after class," she whispered.

* * *

Rachel was keeping herself entertained by playing Angry Birds on her phone. She hoped Santana and Quinn would be back soon—she was starving. She looked up, hearing the door open, just in time to see the jest hat go flying across the room. She managed to flip off of the bed before Santana and Quinn (who were busy undressing each other) landed on it.

"Dear Barbara, my eyes!" she whimpered. "I'll just go…catch a movie or something."

"Thanks Berry!" Santana called as the door closed.


	117. Vote

**Vote**

A heavenly aroma filled the air when Santana walked into the house. She shut off her iPod and wandered into the kitchen to find Tina cooking. "Hey T," she said, kissing the younger girl's shoulder. "How was your day?"

"Fine. 18 orders of sequined mini skirts. You know, I had a feeling breaking into fashion design for dance and cheer groups would be lucrative, but it's days like these when I wonder how the hell I was the first to think of it on this level."

"You're a genius. And a great cook," Santana added, stealing a carrot. "What's for dinner?"

Tina gave her a look. "The pregnant girlfriend is being a brat. So, grilled carrots and tofu, spaghetti squash, sugar snap peas in peanut sauce and I scored her crazy mango-pineapple juice from the store."

"So, in other words, your least favorite meal to cook."

"What Rachel wants, Rachel gets. For the next three months at least."

Santana laughed and nodded. "How'd she get you to cave?"

"Borrowed Puck's amplifier and played the Streisand Greatest Hits album for two hours."

Grinning, Santana stole another carrot.

"Stop that," Tina said, slapping her hand away. "Rachel's out on the porch. Will you go get her so we can eat?"

"Aye, aye, captain." Santana tossed her keys and iPod onto the counter before making her way out the back door. She smiled, spotting her other girlfriend napping on the hammock. Quietly, she walked over and knelt next to her. She rested a hand on Rachel's stomach and gave her a kiss. "Wake up, Rae. It's time to eat."

After a few moments, Rachel's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, San."

"Morning, sleepyhead," Santana said with a smile. "How's my favorite actress?"

"Good. Moving at a waddle, but good," Rachel said, letting Santana help her up. "How was your day?"

"Meh, you know. Little ad work, little schmoozing…. Dinner's ready."

Rachel sniggered. "Does Tina still have All I Know of Love stuck in her head?"

"Well she wasn't singing it when I came in," Santana told her. Her girlfriends were crazy sometimes.

"Right," Tina said when they made it back to the dining room. "Everything's on the table. Rachel, here's your glass of milk."

"Oh, Tina…. Do I have to?" Rachel whined. She'd gone off the vegan diet a few years back, but she hated milk with a passion anyway.

"You can't take the calcium pills so this is the alternative."

Rachel huffed and glared at the glass.

"We'll vote on it," Santana said.

"It's not fair when you two gang up on me!"

"All in favor of Rachel drinking the milk?" She and Tina raised their hands.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Tina smiled and brought over a glass of juice. "Milk, with a mango-pineapple chaser." She gave Rachel a kiss and sat down.


	118. Coming Out

**Coming Out**

"Are you sure about this, Rae?" Quinn asked, peeking into the choir room. The glee club was already gathered there, and it was making her a little nervous thinking about what they intended to do.

"Quite sure," Rachel said, taking her hand. "It's the right thing to do. Plus, a couple of people already know. I don't want them to have to keep this a secret for us."

"I don't like it," Santana said, leaning against the wall. "It's going to be a shit storm, and you know it."

"Well, then you'll just have to cheer us up afterwards, won't you?" Rachel asked with a smirk. "Come on, before Mr. Schue gets going with whatever love affair with 80s music we'll be doing this week."

Smiling, they followed Rachel into the room.

"There you guys are!" Artie said. "We were worried."

"Thank you for your concern, Artie, but we're perfectly fine. I apologize for our tardiness, Mr. Schue. I'm afraid that's my fault."

"Why were you worried, Double A?" Santana asked.

"Considering that Rachel was missing at the same time as you two?" Kurt said. "There were assumptions…."

"Actually," Rachel said loudly before Santana could respond. "That's a good segue into our announcement."

"Oh dear god, give us the Sparknotes version," Mercedes said.

"Wheezy, step off my hobbit before I ends you."

"Yeah, Mercedes, let them…" Tina began. "Wait…your hobbit?"

"Our hobbit, actually," Quinn said, taking Rachel's hand.

"I'm respectfully requesting a new pet name," Rachel said as Santana threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Holy—"

Pandemonium broke out as questions were hurled at the girls. Kurt gasped so hard, Quinn thought his elephant brooch would fall off. Mr. Schuester tried to restore order, but ended up taking refuge behind the piano when Santana's shoe (meant for a trash talking Mercedes) nearly hit him. Rachel was near tears after almost everyone started questioning everything from her intelligence to her sanity.

"What the hell?" Mercedes finally yelled, summing up the entire conversation nicely.

"This is a shitty joke to pull on Finn, guys," Tina said.

"Come on, Rachel," Kurt said. "You can't be that gullible."

"What's that supposed—"

"Not to sound mean, but I'm with Kurt," Mike said, astonishing half the room. "What? You were all thinking it too. After everything you guys have been through, you come in here and tell us that you're dating all of a sudden."

"Rachel, I know you're heartbroken from Finn dumping you—" Will started.

"Let's not overstate things," Rachel said.

"And for the last time, I didn't dump her!" Finn said. "It was mutual. I don't get why everyone's so pissed on my behalf. They're happy. Let them alone."

Slowly, everyone's heads turned to the oldest gleek.

"You…you knew!" Kurt said.

"Of course I knew," Finn told him. "Brittany and I play World of Warcraft every night. We talked about it."

"And I knew," Puck admitted.

"How did you know?" Artie asked.

He shrugged. "Rachel's my Jew, Santana's my bro, and Q's my baby mama."

"We good now?" Santana asked, crossing her arms.

"This is insane. How did this even happen?" Tina asked.

"Who cares?" Sugar replied.

"It's cool, Motta," Quinn said, smiling at her. "We can tell them."

"Again, Sparknotes version," Mercedes said as Rachel opened her mouth.

Rachel huffed. "Fine. Apparently I'm too simple to know when I like or don't like someone, and too verbose to explain myself when attacked, so I'll let Quinn tell you."

Quinn shot a withering glare at the group, then smiled when the all recoiled. "Right, Miss Sparknotes. Santana and I were going for our daily run a few weeks after school ended. We caught the tail end of a large black dude yelling and walking out the door as we passed Rachel's house. Came to find that Mr. and Mr. Berry were in the middle of a bitter divorce. My tiny diva here was on her own for most of the summer. Because somehow it made sense that once Berry One left, Berry Two needed to find himself."

"So we basically forced our presence on Rachel, and long story short, we both asked ourselves exactly what you're asking us." Santana continued. "Why the hell did we care? There was soul searching and tears and come to Jesus talks, but it works. And Q and I love each other just as much as we love Rae, so the first one who suggests any freaky love slave shit is going to be introduced to my fist."

"Britt found out first, because S tells her everything."

"Then Finn sort of walked in on us at the Fourth of July party," Rachel admitted, blushing.

"And we told Puck for reasons we're not disclosing to you," Quinn said.

Rachel smiled over at her. It had been Quinn's idea to reconnect with Shelby after it was apparent that her fathers had completely forgotten about her. The fact that she and Puck were now in Beth's lives again was, in the blonde's words, just a perk.

"So this is happening?" Kurt asked.

"Yep. Problem Baby Gaga?" Santana asked.

There were mutters and shrugs.

With subtle smiles to each other, the girls took their seats.


	119. Favorite

**Favorite**

Santana tossed down her gym bag and let her referee whistle fall on top of it. She was absolutely exhausted, but she'd managed to escape before being berated by the losing team's parents. And she couldn't deny that it had been a good day, she thought as she stepped into a cold shower. Rachel had left before her, but her girlfriend had packed a breakfast. Cherry turnovers and a Red Bull energy drink. She'd gotten her grades back on two exams and aced both of them. The librarian hadn't glared at her when she went in to study, and Rachel had somehow finagled an undergrad into delivering a homemade lunch. It was Santana's favorite—crab salad on iceberg lettuce, with a fruit cup and a Capri Sun. She'd figured the afternoon would turn south to make up for the morning not shitting on her, but she'd been pleasantly surprised. Brody had picked her up and driven her to the gym, and she'd refereed three basketball games without being assaulted. And she'd found a cherry ring pop in her bag at break, providing a much needed sugar rush around six.

"Hey San," Rachel said as she got out of the shower. She handed her a towel and poured herself a glass of water.

"Hey baby. Did I wake you?"

"Yes, but don't worry. I wanted to see how your day went."

"A hell of a lot better than all of last week combined, thanks to you," Santana told her. She gave her a kiss and changed into her pajamas. "Stop ogling me, Berry."

"Stop being ogle-able, Lopez."

The two of them walked to the bedroom and snuggled down for the night.

"Today had a distinctly cherry-flavored feel to it," Santana said. "Even the fruit cup fit in."

"You know how I am with themes."

"How did you know that was my favorite flavor?"

Rachel turned in Santana's arms and smiled at the former bully. "I know all of your favorites, because you're _my_ favorite."

"I'm your favorite flavor?" Santana asked with a smirk.

"You're my favorite. Full stop."


	120. Overprotective

**Overprotective**

"Hey, Q," Puck said, opening the door. "Uh, my little sis is chilling with us tonight. Hope that's cool."

"Dude, I go to school with her. It's fine," Quinn said. "Hey Santana," she said to the younger girl.

Puck eyed them, confused for a second. So far as he knew, they didn't really talk, but Quinn had sat down right next to her. A little awkwardly, sure, but still…. "So…what movie should we watch?"

"You guys can play video games," Santana said, not looking up from her phone. "I know it's supposed to be bro night."

"Cool!" Puck said, setting up the console. "Get off your phone, Q."

Quinn had looked down to check a text message and looked back up again quickly, blushing. "Shut up. Ready to get your ass kicked?"

* * *

Puck snorted awake. Squinting at the clock, he saw that it was just past two in the morning. He got up off the floor and turned off the Xbox. Where had Quinn gone? Whatever, he thought as he walked up the stairs. He stopped, however, when he got to Santana's room. There were weird noises coming from it. Wait, no…those were sex noises! He shouldered the door open, ready to beat whatever punk to death he had to to protect his sister's—

"PUCK!"

"Quinn?" he bellowed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like she's doing?" Santana snapped.

"I can explain," Quinn said, trying to cover up.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Two months, now get out of my room!" Santana yelled.

Puck scowled at both of them.

"Out!"

He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


	121. Notes

**Notes**

Rachel and Quinn looked at the ground as their parents spoke with Principal Figgins.

"Detention for passing notes seems harsh."

"Read it."

"Rachel!"

"QUINN!"

Shit.


	122. Summit

**Summit**

It had been one of the more surprising things on Rachel's bucket list. Climbing Mount Olympus? What the hell?

But yodeling off the summit? Epic.


	123. Hipster

**Hipster**

The homework—"hipster" photo shoot. Santana had called Quinn.

"Help."

"Grab a typewriter, some paint swatches, and Dollar Store glassware. I'll be there Saturday night."


	124. Cook

**Cook**

Quinn went to the cupboard and looked around frantically. She'd never cooked before, so she needed something easy, but impressive. "Can't lose with pasta."


	125. Earth

**Earth**

Rachel walked barefoot down the path near the house, enjoying the feeling of the earth beneath her feet. Here, now, she could definitely relax.


	126. Ashes

**Ashes**

Quinn smiled as Brittany snuggled closer to her, still asleep. The older blonde looked into the ashes of the dying fire, and closed her eyes.


	127. Goobers

**Goobers**

Quinn came in to find Santana and Landon asleep on the couch. It took all of her strength not to laugh.

Both were sporting Ninja Turtle boxers and tank tops (Landon was Rafael and Santana was Leonardo). They also had on bright orange fuzzy socks and Santana was holding a foam sword for some reason. Quinn snapped a picture of her two favorite goobers before heading into the kitchen to order dinner.


	128. Never Have I Ever

**Never Have I Ever**

They had never been so bored. Schuester had them on hotel lockdown after the vodka gummi bears incident. Rachel and Brittany were playing Sonic Heroes on the hotel's game system while Santana and Quinn sliced up some apples.

"Hand me the knife, Q."

"No. You're wrong handed. It stresses me out when you chop stuff. You can rinse."

"I'm bored," Santana groaned.

"We could play Never Have I Ever," Brittany suggested.

"With what? Schue jacked all our booze."

"Strip Never Have I Ever," Rachel amended.


	129. Bad Cop

**Bad Cop**

It was chaos. All Quinn had wanted to do was prove she could be the fun mom…creative like Rachel, spontaneous like Brittany, laid back like Santana. It was hard being the bad cop all the time. So she'd taken the triplets to the Painted Plate—a sort of craft shop where kids could paint their own ceramics—and then out to lunch. And when the boys had come up to her with big pleading eyes (of course that was how Rachel would pass on her genes) and asked for milkshakes, she'd smiled and said, "Sure!"

And now she was paying the price. She was now certain that the McDonald's milkshakes were one part milk, one part ice cream, and one part meth. Her children were running around like coked out squirrels. It was not attractive.

"Boys!" she called, trying to not sound frazzled. "Time to go!"

"Momma, can we go to the park?" Adam called back.

The park. Jungle gym. Slides. Space to let off energy….

"Absolutely! Let's load up."

Later, when Santana asked about their day, Quinn simply said, "I'm officially okay with being the bad cop."


	130. Children

**Children**

Rachel peeked into her godsons room. He was a weird yet perfect mixture of David and Blaine. Burly, artsy, ate anything that was put in front of him, needed industrial vats of hair gel to function….

Currently the boy had on a feather boa, and was serenading his pet snake, Achilles. The microphone warbled as the six-year-old sang.

"Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than, less than perfect…."

"Want one?" Santana asked quietly, coming up behind Rachel.

"Why on earth would I want a pet snake?" Rachel asked, then paused. "You didn't mean the snake."

"Nope."

Rachel smiled. "Maybe."


	131. Letters

**Letters**

The jeep rolled over the dusty terrain, swerving slightly in places to stay on the barely visible road. She'd stayed out a little later than usual, and the wind had picked up. Sand covered the road, but it wasn't that far back to the house.

None of the neighbors were out when Quinn pulled into the driveway. She wasn't surprised. These houses were for letting people know you had them, not so much enjoying the area. She pulled open the mailbox, surprised to find that she had a letter. Even more surprising, it was from Rachel. She tore it open right there at the mailbox, eyes skimming quickly over the page. She took in two phrases right off the bat:

_I miss you._

_I don't blame you for what happened._

Trying to keep off the tears that were threatening to spill, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number at the bottom of the lavender-scented stationary.

"…Quinn?"

"…I got your letter…."


	132. Beach

**Beach**

Santana applied liberal amounts of ketchup to her son's hotdog as he and Quinn built a sand castle. Ever since the blonde had moved out to California, she'd been a permanent fixture in their lives. Sure, they hadn't had any of the deep conversations yet (why did you leave? Why did you marry him? Are you back in my life for good?), but those could wait. Right now, Santana was perfectly content with playing house and watching her kid destroy the sand castle with the expensive toy robot her girlfriend had bought him.

"Mami! The castle's under attack!" Joffrey yelled.

"Well once you've won the battle, there's lunch!" Santana called back, smiling at Quinn.

The blonde grinned back as the little boy pulled her over to the picnic blanket.


	133. Cookies

**Cookies**

Santana would never compare her wife to any canine being, ever. That said, the ferocity with which Rachel was searching for her latest obsession could only be described in terms of "blood hound". She watched as Rachel got more and more frustrated with their laptop.

"It's Google!" she yelled. "It has to know where to find them!"

"Er…baby? Quinn brought those back from Japan. I don't know—"

"Call her and see if they ship!"

Santana highly doubted that whatever random street vendor Quinn bought the cookies from shipped internationally. But like hell was she going to say that to her super pregnant wife. She kissed Rachel on the cheek. "Sure babe." Shuffling quickly down the hall, she took refuge in the laundry room and dialed her bestie. "I blame you," she said without preamble.

"I haven't been back long enough to do anything," Quinn said. "What's up?"

"You got Rachel addicted to those cookies!"

"The ginger chocolate ones shaped like tiny cows?"

"Yes, bitch! And now my pregnant wife wants more, and can't find them anywhere on the web. You want to know how many names she called Amazon?"

Quinn laughed. "Ask nicely and I might be able to help you."

"Please?" Santana begged. Her pride could go fuck itself—she just wanted to keep Rachel happy.

* * *

The next day, Quinn showed up with a box roughly the size and shape of a snare drum. It was full of the cookies.

The younger girl literally squealed when she saw it. "Thank you, Quinn!"

Santana hugged the blonde. "I owe you one," she whispered. "But how…?"

"They're my favorites too," Quinn explained. "And they store for years. I shipped eight boxes to myself before I left."


	134. Discovery Channel

**Discovery Channel**

Thunder rumbled and before Rachel could even process the idea of being awake, a small body had bounded onto the bed, knocking the wind from her and Santana.

"Oof! Ouch! What's up, kiddo?" Santana asked sleepily.

Terrified green eyes looked back at them as their daughter forcefully snuggled under the covers. "The hyenas tore all my feathers off!" she wailed. "They were going to eat me!"

"Santana! Have you been letting her watch Discovery Channel again?" Rachel demanded.

"Er…no?"

Rachel hit her with a pillow and snuggled back under the covers. "Don't worry, Ana, we won't let the hyenas get you."

"Plus, you don't have any feathers to tear off," Santana reminded her. "Silver linings."


	135. Full Moon

**Full Moon**

"No I'm not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Prove it," Santana said, smirking.

Rachel huffed and marched out of the room.

Slightly startled, Santana followed.

They went out onto the deck and, with every ounce of resolve she could muster, Rachel pulled down her shorts and mooned the glee club, who were messing around in the pool.

Silence followed.

Rachel smiled brightly at Santana, pulled her shorts up, and went back inside.

Only two things were running through Santana's brain at the moment. 1) who knew Rachel Berry wore thongs, and 2) she'd never say Rachel was chicken shit when it came to pranks ever again.


	136. Apologize

**Apologize **

Rachel set the box of fried chicken down gingerly. She'd be the bigger person about this and wouldn't complain.

Quinn sat calmly typing away. She looked up when she smelled the distinct aroma of fried food. "Chicken?" she asked, startled.

"My peace offering." Rachel smiled when her girlfriend stood up and stretched, tank top riding up to reveal Batman boxers.

"Apology very accepted," Quinn said, walking to the mini fridge for a beer. "I was in desperate need of something salty and greasy."

"I aim to please."


	137. Assistance

**Assistance**

Rachel chuckled as she poured two mugs of coffee. The swearing coming from out on the deck was growing in volume, intensity and creativity. Santana had been fighting to put the satellite up for over an hour, and the satellite was winning. "Quinn?"

"Hmmm?"

"Please go render assistance to your other wife before she chucks the thing into the ocean."

Quinn set the fish food down next to the small aquarium full of goldfish and grinned. "Okay, but consider this my 'I told you so.' Should've let me put it up to begin with."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. How do you want your tea?"

"Like I want my woman—hot and full of sugar."

Rachel refused to laugh on general principle, but indulged in a bright smile once Quinn had left the room.


	138. Frogs

**Frogs**

When Quinn walked in the house, she immediately knew something was up.

Rachel was eating vegan ice cream straight from the carton—something she never did unless she was so stressed that she couldn't function.

The blonde approached slowly, heels clicking against the tile. She was racking her brain for anything she could've done wrong in the past week. When she was fairly certain that she wasn't to blame for her wife's ire, she bent down and kissed her. "Um…hey baby. Anything you want to talk about?"

Rachel looked at her and, in the type of cool calm voice used by people ten seconds away from turning into a Gotham villain, said, "I want you to go upstairs and arrest your son. I think federal prison would do him a world of good."

The FBI agent quirked an eyebrow. "O…kay? Fine…good."

"Keep the power suit on while you do it—really make an impression."

"And…what am I arresting him for?"

"Ask him."

Quinn left her wife to her ice cream and marched upstairs. When she got to the fourth grader's room, their son Teague was sitting on his bed, head bowed. "Son? Information please."

"I got suspended," he mumbled.

"Why?"

"Me and Jaime Lopez set some frogs loose in the offices today."

"Which offices?"

"Erm…all of them?"

Quinn barely resisted the urge to facepalm.

"You're not really going to arrest me, are you?" he asked.

"Not this time. I wouldn't push your luck with another stunt like this, though," Quinn said sternly. She held out her hand to him. "Do you want to help me with dinner?"

He raised his head finally and shook it. "Momma's still cranky…."

She smirked. "As well she should be. I'll try to get her to calm down before dinner. No video games this week. Do your homework."


	139. Lunch Box

**Lunch Box**

Rachel helped Kellan shrug off his jacket. "Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah! We learned about the water cycle, and Mr. Armstrong says we're going to build terrariums next week. I have a note in my folder about it."

"Okay, buddy. I'll look at it while you work on your homework. Let me check your lunch box." They'd started this routine after the boy had randomly turned into a picky eater, and had started coming home with only the cookies gone from the bag.

The nine-year-old held up the blue bag that was covered in alien stickers.

"Ate everything! Good job, sticking with your vegetables," Rachel said. "Alright, that's thirty minutes on the Xbox."

Kellan grinned and rushed off into the living room as Rachel wandered into the kitchen. She was just about to call Santana to have her pick up some pizza when her phone rang. "Rachel Berry," she answered.

"Hi Rachel! It's Amanda."

Rachel smiled. Amanda's son Dion was Kellan's best friend. The older black woman was one of the few mothers at the school that both Rachel and Santana liked. "Hey Amanda! How's it going?"

"We're doing good, thanks. I was calling to see if I could get your recipe for brussell sprouts. My normally veggie-phobic child is in love with them. I guess he's been trading Kellan sprouts for Oreos for the past three days."

"Oh has he? Well I can definitely email it to you."

"Awesome, thanks. See you at the PTA meeting!"

"See you!" Rachel hung up and marched into the living room where Kellan was killing zombies. She turned the game off without letting him save.

"MOM!"

"Time for us to talk, young man…."


	140. Ridiculous

**Ridiculous**

Santana rolled her eyes. "You two couldn't be more ridiculous if you tried," she told Rachel.

The younger girl had just opened her locker to find a cupcake from Quinn inside. "You might want to try to be a little ridiculous once in a while. Brittany might enjoy it." She expected a scoff or sarcastic remark, but she was met with silence. She turned to find Santana looking thoughtful.

"…you wouldn't happen to know a good oatmeal/Craisin/chocolate chip cookie recipe, would you?" the cheerleader asked.

"No, but Google's never failed me yet."

"Let's go look while B's at her violin lesson."


	141. Thief

**Thief**

It was a little after 1 a.m. when the window slid open. The gloved hands pushed it up slowly, and a tiny figure slipped inside. She was careful to land on the thick black carpet. She crept down the hallway without making a sound. In front of her, finally, hung a picture of the family—a burly, smug looking man with his vacant faced wife. Two children, who could only be assholes from the way they were dressed and the expressions on their faces, were carrying toy poodles. The thief repressed a snort and moved the picture. She reached out to turn the knob on the safe when she felt a burning sensation on her back. The world went dark.

* * *

Quinn opened her eyes to see the smiling face of the head of the Thieves' Guild. She groaned and sat up.

"Not bad for your first attempt," Flanelfoot said. "No matter. You made it farther than your friend. She got caught at the coffee table."

Quinn looked over to where Rachel was having her head bandaged.

"Half marks," the Thief Lord said. "You may resume training after lunch—which, of course, you will be expected to pinch. And you may want to get some stealth tips from your girlfriend over in the Assassins' Guild. Strictly speaking, I'd never insinuate that they're better at it, but Santana Lopez does have a stroke of genius to the art."

"Yes, sir."

"And Quinn?"

"Sir?"

"Next time, don't stop at the family's bar for a shot of whiskey."

The blonde grinned and nodded.


	142. Weekend Plans

**Weekend Plans**

Brittany hopped out of the shower and wrapped the fluffy blue towel around herself. She got back into the room just as Quinn was setting down her paintbrush.

"Hey lady," Quinn said, leaning up from her stool to kiss her.

"Hey. Is that the new one for the gallery?" she asked, nodding to the painting of lilies.

"Yep! All finished. Which means I'm yours for the rest of the weekend."

Brittany grinned. "Good," she said, dropping her towel. "I've got plans for us…."


	143. That's Not Disney

_**LbN: Co-written w/ JR Boone.**_

"No."

"Please? I'll make your favorite spicy sausage pasta for dinner."

"No."

"Come on, Santana! I'll let you pick the characters! So long as you're the boy."

"I'm not even going to give you the Fabray Approved speech on gender roles right now. I really get to pick?"

"Yep!"

"Fine. You're Thumbelina and I'm Prince Cornelius."

"Tana, baby, that's not Disney."

"Dmitri and Anastasia?"

"Not Disney."

"Fine. I'll be Curdie and you be Ire-"

"For Barbara's sake, Santana! Those are NOT DISNEY MOVIES!"

"They might as well be! Fine, give me options…."

"Tana there are dozens to chose from! We could be Esmeralda and Phoebus."

"Fuck that noise she should have gotten with Quasimodo. Bitch."

"What? That's just…fine what about Pocahontas and John Smith?"

"Again no. That movie has more historical inaccuracies then Schue has vests. I can't be a part of that."

"Beauty and The Beast?"

"What so you get to look sexy and I end up looking like I might have fleas?"

"Urgh Santana you're being difficult on purpose! I can tell."

"I'm doing no such thing. You're just giving me crap options."

"Fine then! You pick whatever you want and I will go along with it!"

"Anything I want Rachel? Are you sure?"

"Yes! Anything you want! Just pick something!"

And that is the story of how Pezberry showed up at Puck's annual Halloween party dressed up as Yzma and Kronk.


	144. The Game is On

_**LbN: Co-written w/ JR Boone. **_

Rachel Berry was nothing if not determined when she set her mind to something, and nothing brought out that determination like competition. That could possibly explain why she was currently balancing a box of ginger snap cookies in one hand and a large soy cafe vanilla half frap with an extra shot of expresso in the other. Usually students ignored her completely but due to the look of scary determination on her face they were almost flying out of her way as she stomped down the hall towards Santana Lopez's locker. And there she was. The metaphorical EGOT at the end of this competition. "Hey Santana," Rachel said sliding up next to the injured football player and resting a hand on her casted arm. "Oh hey Rachel," Santana said smiling widely down at the brunette. "What's up?" "Not much," Rachel giggled cocking her head to the side and grinning shyly. "How are you feeling?" Santana sighed forlornly and looked down at her arm. "I've been better." "Awe you poor thing," Rachel cooed shaking her head and pouting. "I know it won't make up for being out for the rest of the season but I made you something." "Oh god please tell me that those are your ginger snap cookies," Santana moaned hungrily as Rachel held the box up to her. "I can't wait to eat them all." Down the hall Rachel caught a glimpse of Quinn Fabray narrowing her eyes and smirked before leaning in and looking into Santana's eyes. "Well they're all for you. And later on if you're still hungry I've got something else you're more than welcome to devour," she murmured, her voice practically dripping with sex. Santana let out a surprised squeak and her eyes widened comically as Rachel stood up up on her tiptoes and kissed the football player softly on the cheek before strutting down the hallway. When she passed Quinn she raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Beat that blondie."

Quinn's mouth dropped open in shock. Oh HELL no. This shit was on. She marched straight up to Santana and smirked.

"It's cute that she thinks she's got you wrapped around her finger. But we both know that's not true…."

Santana muttered something through a mouthful of cookie.

Quinn smiled. "Rachel talks a big game, but she'll make you wait. I won't. How about we skip fifth period and have some alone time?"

Santana swallowed. "I…erm…I have a uh…a test…"

"That's fine," Quinn said, gently wiping crumbs from the flabbergasted football player's face. "Just let me know when I can…take care of you."

She walked away, leaving a completely shocked Santana in her wake.

* * *

Friday, Brittany walked down the hall with a spring in her step. Puck had just surprised her with tickets to Finding Nemo on Ice, so she was in a great mood. She stopped suddenly, hearing a "Psst!" from the janitor's closet.

"Is that you, Mr. Tucker?" she asked in a stern voice. "Because no means no. And Puck will kill you if you try anything again."

"It's me, Britts."

"Santana?" She opened the door and squeezed into the tiny broom cupboard. "What's going on?"

"I'm hiding from Quinn and Rachel."

Brittany laughed. "Too much?"

"R got me a puppy! A feaking puppy! And I thought Q was going to kill it for a minute there. I think Rachel thought the same thing- she wouldn't let Q hold it."

"They're ridiculous."

"I don't know what to do, B," Santana whined.

"Threesome?"

"That's your answer to everything."

"Yeah, but I really think it'll work this time!" Brittany insisted. "They'll fuck the crazy out of each other, and you get both your girls. Anyway, I have to go. Artie's going to help me with my physics homework."

Santana nodded as her best friend left her in the closet. Literally, this time…. She took out her phone and typed a text to her two admirers.

_My house. 7:30. Don't be late._

She smiled. Britts was a genius sometimes.


	145. The Four of Us

_**Co-written w/ JR Boone.**_

The group of parents was silent.

Santana held Rachel tightly on her lap while Quinn and Brittany gripped each other's hands.

"So…all of you?" Leroy asked.

"Yes, Daddy."

"And you're…I mean, this has been going on for a while?" Cris Lopez asked, popping a few Tums into his mouth.

"For a few months," Santana answered.

"We would have told you sooner," Quinn said quickly. "We were just…worried."

The parents' faces softened at this.

"Oh honey," Judy said, moving to hug all four girls in turn. "We love you. I won't lie and tell you that I understand how this works, or how it happened, but you're our girls."

"That's right," Adam Pierce said, nodding. "And, frankly, I was at least prepared for Santana and Brittany. Now it's just adding two more wonderful girls to our family."

"Huh?" Santana asked.

"You two were sort of obvious," Rachel said affectionately.

"You asked Father Emmanuel to marry the pair of you when you were five," Maribel Lopez told the group.

Everyone laughed, bringing a much needed break to the tension.

"Who wants pie?" Hiram asked.

But then, there was a knock at the door. Well, not a knock so much as a pounding. Leroy stood to answer it.

"Judy," he said quietly. "It's Russell."

Instantly Quinn's entire body tensed in fear and three bodies moved protectively in front of her as the door was forcefully pushed open and Russell charged in.

"Where is she!" He yelled furiously, his eyes darting around the room. "Where is that little disgrace?"

"Russell what are you doing here?" Judy demanded as she moved to stand protectively in front of the girls.

"I'm here to take that little slut away from this filth and get her some help. Can you imagine my embarrassment when I got a call today from Finn Hudson telling me my own flesh and blood was whoring around with three girls!" He screamed angrily, stomping forwards with his eyes set on Quinn only to be forcefully pushed back by Adam, Chris, and Leroy.

"Those girls you just called whores are our daughter Russell and I suggest you get out of our home before I remove you forcefully," Leroy growled, his eyes narrowed disdainfully.

"Maybe I should just go with him," Quinn whimpered as unchecked tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Instantly her girlfriends let out simultaneous objections and threats but it was Judy who pushed her way towards Russell and slapped him with every ounce of strength in her body.

Flabbergasted Russell staggered back and hit the frame of the door, his face red with embarrassment now. Before he could get a word out though Judy was in his face. "Russell I let you make me believe that there was something wrong with me for fifteen years. Fifteen years of thinking every decision I made was wrong. I will not let you do that to our daughter. She is in love with those girls and it will be a cold day in hell before I let you infect her with your filth. Now get out of our lives before I call the police and tell them word for word every single detail of how you built your business."

Instantly the color drained from Russell's face and his shock was only outmatched by the shock of everyone else when he raced out of the house like he was being chased by Satan himself.

The room was silent for a moment as Judy composed herself, straightened out her clothes, and turned back to the group. "Now how about that pie?"


	146. Just Chill

Santana came in to find Rachel crying on the couch. "Baby?" she asked, rushing over. "What's up?"

"I…I had…audition…didn't…get call back…."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Santana said, hugging her. "That was for Oklahoma, right?"

Rachel nodded. "I just keep going over the audition in my head, trying to figure out what I did wrong… how I could've been better."

"While some reflection is a good thing, let's not obsess over it. I know," she said, seeing Rachel about to interrupt. "You have to dissect to see how you can do better next time. But driving yourself crazy over it in one night isn't going to help. We need to just chill tonight."

"I don't feel like going out."

"We don't have to."

"What do you suggest?"

"Poker, vodka shots, and How to Train Your Dragon."

Rachel smiled. "I'm in."


	147. Girlfriend Pillow

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You keep staring over here. What's up, Berry?" Santana asked, scooting closer to the younger girl.

"It's just…your pillow looks more comfortable than mine."

There was silence as Santana let that sink in. She didn't know if that was crazy Rachel!logic or if this was the girl's way of coming out. Or asking to experiment. She took the safest route.

"Well, I have heard boobs compared to pillows. So it's like having a pillow on top of a pillow."

Rachel made a face.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Okay Berry, you want the pillow or the real thing?"

"…real thing?"

Santana tugged her closer and reclined back on the couch. She smiled when Rachel snuggled closer to her as they watched Project Runway.


	148. Into the Storm

**LbN: Co-written by JR Boone.**

Quinn was panicking. Hell, she was nearly hyperventalating as the storm clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. Any other day? She would've loved a nice good storm. Curled up on the couch with her girls and a good book. But that was the problem. Two of her girls weren't here.

"They still aren't picking up," Santana said.

"Okay," Quinn said, taking a few deep breaths.

Thunder rumbled and both girls jumped.

"Right," Santana said. "We just need to stay calm and think this through. Britts said they were going kayaking. The guy at the rental place said they took the kayaks out about an hour and a half ago, and were headed down to the cove. Two options here: Either they checked in at the other rental place down the beach, or-"

"Or they got swept out to sea when the wind picked up," Quinn muttered, fatalist mind taking over officially.

"Stop," Santana said gently. "We'll find them." She pulled Quinn into a hug and grabbed her keys. "Come on."

Twenty minutes later Santana had lost her cool and was screaming in angry broken Spanish at the coast guard as he tried to explain that they couldn't go out for another twenty minutes.

"They could be fucking gone in another twenty minutes though!" Quinn screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks from where she was tucked under Santana's arm.

"Ladies believe me, I want to find them just as much as you do but I can't lose any of my men out there in that storm," the coast guard implored them as he tried to pull them into the shelter of the guard station.

"We don't want to hear your excuses!" Santana yelled shoving him away. "We want you to find our girlfriends!"

"I'm sorry but my hands are tied," he said mournfully shaking his head.

Just as Santana was about to let out another angry tirade and Quinn was about to completely break down sobbing there was a crackle over the two way radio on the guard's belt. "This is Marliner 223 calling the Coast Guard. We just picked two teenage girls out of the water."

In a flash Santana had violently ripped the radio off the man's belt and started yelling into it. "Are they okay!"

"Who is this?" Asked the confused ship captain.

"You're worst nightmare if you don't answer us! Are they okay?" Quinn yelled into the radio, her entire body trembling with fear.

The radio was silent for a moment before it crackled back to life. "They're both okay. Exhausted and soaked but they're okay. We found them floating on an over turned kayak."

That night Santana and Quinn sat vigilant beside two hospital beds, their eyes trained on their sleeping girlfriends. "They're gonna be okay," a nurse murmured reassuringly as she checked their vitals.

Santana and Quinn silently nodded. There were no words in the English language that could express their relief.


	149. Back Together

_**LbN: Co-written w/ JR Boone.**_

Santana was torn. On the one hand, she and Rachel had been broken up for about a week now. On the other hand, that was HER girl Finneptitude was arguing with. She wanted to white knight it around the corner and rush to the rescue, but it was possible that Rachel was still pissed at her. She breathed in and out a few times, trying to lessen the white hot anger that was coursing through her at the sound of Finn's voice.

"Rachel, you're being stupid…"

"I am not! Just because I'm not with Tana anymore, doesn't mean I want to be with you."

Santana's heart fluttered at the mention of her nickname.

"Well, you're making a mistake. I never understood what you saw in her anyway."

"I saw someone good. Someone amazing and brave, who treated me like a princess."

Finn laughed. "Then why'd you break up with her? She start sleeping around again?"

"No! That's not it at all. Just go away, Finn."

"No, we need to talk about this."

That was when Santana decided she'd had enough.

"Finnept the only thing you need to talk to is a dietician and maybe a doctor about those puffy pyramid nipples," Santana snarled walking around the corner and narrowing her eyes at the boy.

"Santana I can handle this," Rachel said rubbing her brow and crossing her arms.

"Yeah Slutana, she can handle this without you, or did you forget she dumped you?" Finn said throwing a bulky arm over Rachel's shoulder and making the petite girl flinch under the weight.

"Hey Gigantor, get your filthy fucking paws off of her," Santana snapped pushing the boy away from her girl.

"What so now you're in charge of who can be around her?" Finn replied angrily, his face scrunching up and turning red.

"No, Rae is her own person, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you harass her," Santana warned pushing the boy back again.

Finn went to protest but stopped when Rachel stepped in front of the Latina and crossed her arms. "Finn I want you to leave me alone. Now."

"Fine!" Finn said throwing his arms up in the air. "But this is your last chance Rachel. I mean it. This is the last chance you'll have to be with me again."

"I am aware of this and I decline your offer," Rachel sighed shaking her head and grabbing Santana by the wrist to pull her into a bathroom.

Instantly the air became awkward and Santana crossed her arms protectively in front of her chest. "Did you want something?" She asked staring down at the ground.

"Santana I…" Rachel seemed at a loss for words for a second before she let out a small sigh and wrapped her arms around Santana. "Can we go to your place and talk?"

"Um sure," Santana said taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. "Will you…are you gonna tell me what I did wrong."

"Yes," Rachel said biting her bottom lip and looking up at the girl. "But first…can we just cuddle?"

Santana felt the need to simultaneously cry and smile so instead she just took another deep breath and nodded. There would be time for both of those things later.


	150. Cleaning

**Cleaning**

Rachel pulled up short when she walked into the living room. The apartment had been cleaned—like SERIOUSLY cleaned. It still smelled faintly of Pine Sol. She dropped her bag and looked around, hearing a humming noise from the next room. "Santana?" Walking into the master bedroom, she found her wife vacuuming the carpet, earphones in, drinking a Red Bull.

"Oh, hi Rae!" Santana yelled over the noise. She pulled her earbuds out and turned the vacuum off.

"Hard day?" Rachel asked.

"Three pop quizzes and a presentation. And the only two things that calm me down after that amount of fuckery are cleaning and sex."

Rachel nodded. "Now that I'm here, would you like to stop your assault on the apartment in favor of option two?"

Santana smirked. "You're the best girlfriend ever."


	151. Rugby

**Rugby**

Rachel sat watching the rugby match with Quinn. It was a test of self control at every game, because Santana looked really, really good out there. But the three of them weren't out as a triple yet, so they had to pretend that they were simply huge rugby fans and weren't perving on the college junior.

"Lopez scores her third try of the game, bringing the score to 24-12, Columbia."

The two of them stood up to cheer. Rachel noticed the claw marks on Quinn's leg from where the blonde had been gripping them in anticipation.

"We really need to get you a stress ball for these things," Rachel said.

Quinn laughed as the buzzer sounded for the end of the game.

The team came running off the field, and they spotted Santana waving to them.

"I love home games," Quinn said as they waved back. "We don't have to wait as long to kidnap her."

"Let's go wait in the field house." Rachel blew a kiss as subtly as she could before following Quinn out of the stands.


	152. Homework

**Homework**

Quinn capped the markers and hoped to god the project was finished well enough. She'd sworn she'd never do her children's homework, but this was getting out of hand. All because she and Santana had gotten caught up in their damned rivalry with Jesse and Rachel at the beginning of the year. After finding out that Addison Berry-St. James would be attending the prestigious Callum Academy for the Gifted, Santana had signed Landon right up. He'd gotten in, of course, but college prep for third graders was so insane it wasn't even funny. Then there was the bullying…. She sighed. These kids were society snobs in Osh Kosh. They were trained by their parents to only enjoy (or pretend to enjoy) things that were "elegant" and "sophisticated". When it had come time to pick instruments, their grade had ended up with fifteen violinists, eight cellists, and then Landon, who'd actually picked one he wanted to play and settled on the drums. He'd been teased for days about it.

She stood and stretched. She'd had enough, and had a feeling Landon and Santana had too. Moving the poster board to the hallway and setting it near his backpack, she made up her mind. She walked softly down the hall to his room, and was surprised to find the light on. "Landon?"

"I forgot to do my vocabulary cards," he muttered sleepily.

She walked over and sat next to him on the bed. Taking his hand, she asked, "Do you like this school, baby?"

He looked up at her through shaggy red curls. After a moment, he shook his head.

"Okay. Mami and I will talk. And you're not going tomorrow, so you can finish then. Go to sleep."

"Why am I not going?"

"We're taking a mental health day, you and I," she answered, smiling. "Hit the park, maybe catch a movie…."

"Can I get a slushie?"

Quinn smiled and stood. "Of course," she said, kissing his forehead. "Good night, Landon."


	153. Training

**Training**

Two arrows zipped through the brush, hitting their marks. This had been the worst part of training—when they took the fancy gadgets away and saw what you could do with old school weapons, or nothing at all. But Santana had made it this far. Only two days left, and she would be back in civilization, in class, doing regular training, able to take a shower and eat three proper meals a day…. She could almost taste the canteen's peanut butter ice cream as she pulled her arrows from the luckless rabbits. At the beginning of the week, she'd outright refused to kill bunnies. They were cute, damn it. She didn't want to eat something that she would consider getting her future kids as a pet. But her hunger won out in the end, as her captains had said it would.

She sighed and looked around for a good place to build a fire. Two more days….

* * *

Scrubbed raw and in a brand new uniform, Santana had never been happier. She felt so much better. She tried not to grin as she waited for her turn to see the Sergeant.

"Lopez!"

She was ushered into a small office. She saluted smartly at the senior officers.

"At ease, Lopez," Sergeant MacMartin said. "Have a seat." He shuffled some papers around on his desk for a moment, then folded his hands and looked at her. "So…you're one of the three to survive our little game. That's impressive. Hell, I'm so damn impressed that I'll ignore the fact that you burned down five of my trees to do it. Ingenuity—we like that. Now as for your assignment…you requested the European division. Why's that?"

"My background is technical. Europe's division has a large applied science field, sir."

MacMartin grumbled to himself and nodded. "Right. I'm stationing you in Prague, then. You are part of the elite, Lopez, so I don't mind telling you that this ain't no holiday. You'd have a less stressful time going into a war zone."

"Sir?"

He poured two glasses of wine and passed her one. "Drink up. You've just graduated, after all. Now, we aren't the Army. Not the Air Force, or the Navy. In fact, most of America lives in blissful ignorance of our existence. That means you'll be walking a tightrope every day between your military-esque training and the fact that you can't be seen to be a soldier. You're, for lack of a better word, a diplomat now, Lopez. And that drives most people nuts. I have faith in you, though. I have ever since you swaggered in here for your first placement test. You'll be one of five stationed in Prague. A team of bodyguards for diplomats—the real ones—and their children. Your technical savvy will come in handy for the various security systems you'll have to program and utilize on the job. They change every month so the creeps can't figure out how to break them. It's some real Mission Impossible shit. What do you say to that?"

"Uh…thank you sir! May I ask who else is on the team?"

He chuckled. "Gods help the brats you get. It's you, Puckerman, Berry, Fabray, and Captain Corcoran, who's overseeing the whole thing."

Santana grinned.

MacMartin snorted. "Your papers," he said, passing her a file. "Don't go too crazy on the partying tonight. You ship out day after tomorrow."

"Yes sir!"


	154. Pudding

**Pudding**

Quinn pouted.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You big baby."

"It's not nice to make fun of me in my time of medical distress."

"You had to get ten stitches! It's not like you had a leg amputated."

Quinn pouted.

Santana sighed. "Fine. I'll make your stupid banana pudding. You're lucky you're cute."

Quinn grinned.


	155. Snowy Nights

**Snowy Nights**

Santana smiled out at the snow. The power had gone out about an hour ago, and the batteries in their flashlight were dying. Still, she was perfectly content, snuggled up with Quinn in their bedroom.

"What's got you all smiley?" Quinn asked, holding her a bit tighter.

"I like snowy nights," Santana answered. "Know why?"

"Why?"

"Nearly every time I've realized how much I love you, it's been during a blizzard."

Quinn laughed. "Okay, what?"

"Really. The first time was Christmas our freshman year of college. Russell turned back up and your tiny white ass wandered five blocks through a snow storm to my house. I remember I couldn't decide whether I wanted to punch the stupid out of you or hug the sad away."

"I'm glad you went with option two…."

"So am I," Santana said, kissing her. "Then two years later when we had the outdoor Christmas party for my dad's work—"

"I was so excited when you asked me to go," Quinn recalled fondly.

"Yeah, and you managed to look like the fucking princess of some small, insanely rich European nation. You were glowing, and Mami teased me for a week because I didn't take my eyes off you that whole night. Then we have the infamous birth of the Pierce-Puckerman twins…."

Quinn laughed at this. "You'd never looked so scared in your life. And I thought Noah was going to faint."

Santana grinned. "That's our B we were talking about. I was terrified. But then you got there, despite the snow, and everything seemed to run five million times more smoothly. And you looked so calm…just in your jeans, Yale hoodie and cross necklace. Totally casually and collected, like it was a company picnic."

"I couldn't have pictured a more romantic proposal," Quinn said soflty.

"Pssh… I'd had the whole dinner and bright lights style proposal planned for weeks. But it was our fourth blizzard together and I wasn't going a day longer without taking you off the market. And I seriously couldn't look in at our godchildren without picturing our real children…so yeah. Right there in front of the nursery." Santana gave her a cheeky grin and looked out at the snow again.

"Blizzards are kind of our thing, huh?" Quinn asked, spooning her.

"Damn straight, Blondie," Santana said through a yawn. She felt Quinn smile into her shoulder.

"Then I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I'm pregnant…."


	156. Domestic Goddess

**Domestic Goddess**

Domestic goddess…she'd give them domestic goddess all right…. Rachel smiled smugly around her sparkling clean house and mentally told all the asshole housewives that infested the PTA to go fuck themselves. Ever since they'd moved to Colorado, it had been a nonstop pissing contest. These women were bullies. It was weird, and had totally caught her, Santana and Quinn off guard. They'd lived in plenty of different places, with a gazillion types of families: stay at home moms or dads, both parents working, single parents, divorced parents….but this was the first place they'd ever felt this judged. And it wasn't even the triple-parent family thing. It was the fact that all three of them worked and their house didn't look like a model home for some real estate company.

"You really should think about being the domestic goddess of the family," Rachel mimicked. They'd singled her out because she didn't have a "real job". Being the director of a fine arts program for kids in high poverty areas wasn't the same thing as being a lawyer or a businesswoman. Oh no, she could afford to quit and spend more time "keeping her house". She tossed the sponge into the sink with extra gusto, and turned to take the zucchini bread out of the oven. As she put it on the cooling rack, she heard the door open and close. "Hi guys!"

There was no response, just hushed giggling. That meant they were trying to sneak past without her spotting them. She spun around to see her wives with their two kids. All four were covered and dripping mud.

"What in the name of Barbara Streisand?"

"Mami took us off-roading in the Jeep!" Ferris said excitedly.

"Kid cracks like an egg," Santana muttered to Quinn.

Rachel just smiled. "Go wash off and come back down for a snack. And Gabby? Throw your shirt in the wash right now. The peace sign will never be the same if we let the mud sit."

She shook her head as they trouped up the stairs. Whatever… her house could stay messy. She liked her family's chaos better anyway.


	157. Road Tripping

**Road Tripping**

Quinn took a sip of her green tea and peeked in the rearview mirror. Santana and Rachel had no less than three road maps open, and were sniping at each other over the best route to Orlando.

"Don't make me turn this car around!" Brittany said sternly.

Quinn tried not to laugh as that actually did get the pair to shut up…briefly. She was glad she'd picked up the Costco sized bottle of aspirin. They'd all need it to survive this trip.


	158. Bull

**Bull**

"Do I want to do what?" Rachel asked as Santana fixed her bandana.

"Ride the bull. Don't worry, it's mechanical," the older girl clarified.

Rachel looked over to where a skinny dude just got marvelous air being thrown from said bull. "No thanks."

"Too bad. I already signed us up. You're up next."


	159. Arachnophobia

**Arachnophobia**

"Rachel, will you pass me the relish for the salad?" Santana asked.

"Yeah, I got it." Rachel rummaged through their fridge and pulled out a small jar. Then she jumped, shrieked and dropped the jar.

"Rae, what's—holy shit!" Santana yelped, climbing onto the kitchen's island with her girlfriend.

A huge, hairy tarantula was crawling up the side of the refrigerator.

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"Listen, Mr. Creepy Legs, we don't want any trouble," Rachel said.

Santana snorted. "Going to invite it to tea next?"

"Fine, Santana! You try talking to the damn spider!"

It began scuttling towards them.

"Ahhhh!" both girls yelled, and ran.


	160. Unfortunate

**Unfortunate**

"Hi Santana!" Rachel said, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she painted her nails. "How's it going?"

"Awful!" her girlfriend whined. "I've had the day from hell! I stepped on a thumb tack this morning, got rained on going to class, bombed a test, got chewed out at work, and then…."

"Then what, honey?" Rachel asked, concerned.

"I came home to…to have some 'Me time' before my roommate got back. And I wasn't looking and grabbed the Icy Hot instead of the Durex. And then Chantelle came home early and caught me flailing around with the bottle and the strap-on."

Rachel tried desperately not to laugh. "That's unfortunate. I'm sorry, baby. Do you want to come over?"

"I'm coming up the stairs right now."


	161. Arm Wrestle

**Arm Wrestle**

No one knew how they'd gotten to this point, but Santana and Finn were currently staring each other down, huffing and puffing their way through an arm wrestling contest. Everyone could see the effort and exertion on Finn's face as his arm slowly started to drop.

Santana let out a yell of triumph, and with one final push tabled Finn's arm. "Ha!" she yelled. "I win! Now hand over the pudding, Hudson!"

Finn grumbled and went to retrieve the last Snack Pack from the kitchen.


	162. Witches

**Witches**

Elyse had just blown the candles on her cake out when there was a tapping sound at the window.

"Did you hear that?" Quinn asked Brittany, moving through the kitchen to look. "It's an owl…with a note on its leg."

Elyse darted over as her mom let the bird in. "It's addressed to me!" she said, taking the note. She unrolled it, glancing at the Snitch and the unicorn at the top. "Dear Miss Elyse Brittany Fabray-Pierce. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the North American Witches' Academy! Enclosed you will find more details on this opportunity, including information on the exchange semester at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please send us your answer by return owl at your earliest convenience. If you wish to accept your spot, a school list will be forwarded to you in due course. Pleasant wishes, Cassandra A. Timmons, Headmistress."

Quinn and Brittany shared a look.

"Oh my freaking god, I'm a witch!" Elyse yelled. "I knew it!"

The two adults stood shell shocked until Quinn's phone rang.

Santana's voice came through loud and clear over speakerphone. "Dude, did you just get an owl saying your kid's a witch? Cause we did…."


	163. Bro Night

**Bro Night**

"Of all the things we've ever done for bro night, this has got to be the craziest," Blaine said, looking up at the restaurant sign.

Santana grinned and eased on the brakes, pulling into the parking spot. "Grab your wallet, Warbz. We've got some food to conquer."

Blaine rolled his eyes, but grinned and followed. They'd both been sick a few weeks back with a nasty throat and stomach bug (both having caught it from their significant others) and had spent the time in Blaine's dad's man cave watching Man vs. Food. Ever since, Santana had been on a mission to find food challenges. Thus, this week's bro night was taking place in Cincinnati.

"Two for the Four Horsemen Chili Challenge," she told the hostess.

There was a collective gasp as the young girl pulled two clipboards out and handed them to them.

"Sign the wavers and we'll get you a table."

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in the middle of the restaurant, two bowls of chili steaming in front of them. The manager was standing over them with a vial of hot sauce.

"Right. The challenge is one drop, one bowl, one hour. You make it through all your chili, your dinner's free and you get a shirt and a spot on the Wall of Infamy."

Both of them turned to see a wall with only about thirty pictures on it.

"Oh god," Blaine said.

"Ready?"

He and Santana nodded and picked up their spoons.

The manager dipped a dropper into the hot sauce and added a drop to each of their bowls.

"Mix it around good…. Ready? Clock starts now!"

There was cheering from the assembled crowd, but Blaine couldn't hear it. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears. He was pretty sure he was having a seizure. And a stroke, and an aneurysm, and possibly a heart attack. Through steaming eyes and runny nose, he looked up at Santana. She looked like she was suffering just as much, but she was plowing on. No way he could punk out on his bro now. He kept eating.

* * *

"Hey Rachel!" Quinn said. "You seen your lady anywhere? Coach Sylvester wants us to berate the gym students as they run."

"She's home sick," Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"Again? Why?"

"There was an incident with a bowl of chili. I'll tell you about it in glee."


	164. Valentine

**Valentine**

Quinn's heart hammered against her chest when she opened her locker. There, with just a faint dusting of glitter around the edges, was a homemade valentine. It didn't have a message, but simply read, "S + Q = 4ever". She smiled.


	165. Delivery

**Delivery**

Snowflakes kissed the ground as Rachel walked the streets of New Haven, armed with chicken soup, cough syrup and tissues. She got to the Kappa Kappa Gamma house, glad they'd decided to put a flag out front. She could never remember all of the Greek letters.

The door opened and Quinn's pledge sister, Cara, greeted her. "You're such a good girlfriend. Chicken soup all the way from New York," she said, taking Rachel's coat.

"Can't have her sick during finals," Rachel said, and made her way up to see Quinn.


	166. Tough Love, Snixx Style

**Tough Love, Snix Style**

"Okay, enough!" Santana snapped, flicking Kurt on the ear. "I get it. He dumped you—it sucks. But you've got to snap out of it! You've been in tears for days. Next thing you know, you'll be one of those creepy townies who hangs out on the couch all day, eating Eggo waffles and masturbating to the dude on Lazy Town. Using your own tears and stolen hotel lotion as lubricant."

Kurt looked absolutely horrified, and Santana smirked.

"Come on, Hummel. Operation Mend the Broken Heart is officially a go."


	167. Praying

**Praying**

She hated the music they played in hospital waiting rooms. Slow piano jazz…as if that calmed anyone down. A nurse had come by with a blanket, but that had done nothing to help her. Her socks were still wet and her hair was still matted with mud, and probably blood. But she wasn't going anywhere.

Quinn hadn't prayed in years, but now, thinking about Rachel and their unborn daughter in on an operating table…. She was praying like she never had before.

* * *

_**LbN: New poll's up on my profile, if you haven't voted yet! Thanks for all of your reviews. Feel free to send in requests!**_


	168. Game of Thrones

"All I'm saying is, it makes sense."

"Maybe. But I really think they're just friends," Quinn said. "I think Margaery just wants Sansa to be okay. And Sansa misses her family. She sees Margaery as a big sister. That's why she looked like she wanted to cry and hug her at the suggestion of them being sisters."

"She wants them to be sisters in the way Renly and Loras were 'brothers'," Santana said with a snort.

"It doesn't matter either way. I really just want the pair of them to burn King's Landing to the ground and ride off into the sunset."

Just then, Rachel stomped in with a bowl of popcorn and a glare.

"What's up with you?" Santana asked.

"I don't know why you're arguing over these two insignificant women."

"Insignificant?" Quinn squeaked. "Margaery is the only one who can control Joffrey! She's playing him like a fiddle and fucking Cersei's bitch ass over in the bargain!"

"Not like it matters. Daenerys Stormborn, House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Princess of Dragonstone and Mother of Dragons is better than all of them, and will be queen of Westeros soon enough."

Santana and Quinn groaned. Every once in a while, they forgot how big of a Dany stan Rachel was. There was a knock at the door, and Santana stood to answer it.

Brittany was there, holding a stuffed dragon. "Game of Thrones time?"


	169. Comic Con

"Oh no…."

Rachel's ears perked at the annoyed utterance from the next stall. She recognized that voice.

"Erm…excuse me? Is there any toilet paper in your stall. Mine's out."

"Sure," Rachel said, calmly as she could. She took the extra roll and passed it under the stall to the British woman. She sat quietly for a moment, until she heard a flush, then flushed her own toilet and made it to the sinks at the exact same time as Emilia Clarke.

"Thanks," the actress said. Then she took in Rachel's costume and smiled. "Well done."

Rachel tried not to grin as she washed her hands. "Thanks. Um…I sort of love you in the show. You're amazing."

"Thanks! Want to get a picture while we have a moment?"

Rachel beamed.

* * *

An hour in line. She'd had an hour to prepare herself, and she was still losing her shit. _Pull it together, Lopez!_ she thought, as she walked to the head of the queue and stood in front of the woman she would sell her soul to Satan to marry.

"Hi!" Natalie Dormer chirped.

Santana was trying really hard not to cry. It wasn't working. "Hi."

A knowing little smile passed over the beautiful woman's face. "Margaery, Moriarty, or Anne Boleyn?"

"All of the above," Santana said, sniffling and managing a smile.

"Aww! Come here," Natalie said, pulling her into a hug. "Shall we have a picture?"

When Santana walked away a minute or two later, she was pretty sure she'd died and gone to heaven. She opened Twitter to upload the picture, and saw Rachel and Quinn had been having a good day too.

**RBBerry: Just met Daenerys Targaryen in the bathroom!**

**FabrayQutie: Sharing a cookie with Sophie Turner! [link]**

Santana made a mental note to find out the story behind that one later….

**SnixxLopez: Met my future wife. She gave me a hug. #Ican'teven**


	170. Ducklings

Rachel walked in and stopped. She wouldn't believe what she was seeing if it weren't for the "Cheep cheep!" coming from the 30 ducklings waddling around the living room. About 8 of them were settled on and around Brittany's legs as the blonde snacked on cotton candy.

"Britt?"

"Hi Rachel!"

"What are you doing?"

"Watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets."

"Right…right… And, where did our…er…guests come from?"

"The park."

Rachel nodded, and walked to the bedroom. She sighed and hit the number three on her phone. "Santana? I need your advice…."


	171. GPS

****"Ready Q?"

"All set. How did you talk B and R into letting us go off on our own for the weekend?"

"Bribed Britts with a puppy, and promised Rachel she could program all of my electronics."

"Oh god… You realize she probably loaded showtunes for days onto your iPod, right?"

"Nah, look…. Christina Aguilera, Story of the Year, and ooh! Big Sean. I love him."

"I wonder what she did, then."

_Left turn in 3.5 miles._

"Holy shit!" both girls yelped.

"How?" Quinn asked.

"I have no clue, but we're stopping at the first Best Buy and getting a new GPS."

Rachel's voice continued to sound from the device.

_Santana, you are driving six miles over the speed limit! Please slow down._

"No!" Quinn said. "Turn it off, we'll use the map."


	172. Unicorn

"Did…we actually just see that?" Santana asked.

"I mean, I was confused when they wanted to move into a cabin in the woods, but I thought it was just because they were crazy romantics…" Quinn said.

"Did we actually see that? Like, Brittany and Rachel literally stripped naked and turned into unicorns?"

"Damn straight. Any idea why Britt's horn is gold and Rachel's is purple?"

"THAT'S what you're wondering about?"


	173. Joke

**Joke**

Quinn grumbled as she prepared breakfast for herself and Santana. Two arms wrapped around her waist and she stilled, smiling for the first time that morning.

"Grumpy," Santana said, kissing her shoulder.

"Your ex bothers me."

"I know," Santana said, going to the fridge for the fruit bowl. "He bothers me too. Hence, the 'ex' part. But Mark is Joffrey's father. When he does turn up, he's actually decent at the role."

Quinn turned and kissed her. "I know. Cheese on your eggs?"

"Hellz yeah."

Santana's phone started buzzing on the counter. "Santana Lopez."

Quinn added cheese to both plates and watched as her girlfriend had a short and slightly one-sided conversation. "Everything okay?" she asked as Santana snapped the phone shut.

"I have to go to the school. Joffrey's suspended."

"What? Why? What happened?"

"All the secretary told me was that there was an incident in his classroom. Sorry about breakfast—"

"Don't. It's fine," Quinn said, kissing her cheek. "Go check on Joffrey."

* * *

"Joffrey? What happened?"

"Go ahead, Joffrey," Principal MacMillan said.

"We were having joke day," Joffrey said, red in the face. "We each get to tell a joke at the beginning of English lesson. And then if we make everyone laugh, we get a Laffy Taffy at lunch."

Santana had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to end well.

"And tell her the joke you told," the principal prompted.

Joffrey ducked his head and sighed. "If someone has sex on an airplane, does it count as giving a flying fuck?" he mumbled.

Santana blinked. She blinked again. It was funny as hell, but she knew she couldn't laugh at that point. "Why would you—"

"Dad said my joke was stupid! He said no one was going to laugh, and that I should tell a better joke. He told me a bunch of them, but I thought that one was funniest."

Santana facepalmed.

"Honestly," the principal said. "It's not the worst we've heard. But still, the profanity and…er…adult nature of the joke are unacceptable."

"Completely understood. How long is he suspended for?"

"One day. He can come back on Monday."

"Right," Santana huffed, taking Joffrey's hand. "Let's go."

She took out her phone and shot a text to Quinn. _I'm going to kill Mark next time I see him._


	174. Tragedy

**Tragedy**

Santana sighed as she peeked into her daughter Katerina's bedroom. Gathering her strength, she knocked and walked in. "Kit Kat?"

The seven year old raised her head from the pillow and stared at her with red eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," she said hoarsely.

"Baby…I understand you're sad. It's normal. But—"

"You don't understand, Mami!" the girl wailed. "This is the biggest tragedy to befall our family since the Spaghettios Disaster of 2026!"

With difficulty, Santana refrained from rolling her eyes. Not for the first time, she cursed Rachel for passing on the drama gene to their daughter.

"Sparkle was a member of the family!"

"Yes," Santana agreed, sitting on the side of the bed. "But goldfish are hard to take care of…. And I'm sure Sparkle is in a better place now."

"Goldfish heaven?"

"Goldfish heaven. Come help me with dinner?"

Kat nodded and sat up.

"And…maybe we can change into something…not black?"

"I will be observing the final 47 days of my 50 day mourning period, thank you," she said, shuffling past Santana.

This time, Santana did roll her eyes.


	175. Picky

**Picky**

Rachel was a picky eater. There had been many a date where Santana had scrapped the original plan in favor of something she knew Rachel would like. The girl just wasn't adventurous when it came to food. Roller coaster? Good to go. Haunted houses? Hell yeah; bring it on. But the day Santana got her to go to a sushi bar, or Indian restaurant was the day she started looking for the four horsemen. Which was why, when they'd started having children, she'd decided that they would be straight up foodies.

"Come on, Margie!" she coaxed, grinning. "Just try a bite."

"It's not too bad," Aaron, their oldest son, said. He took another huge bite of his slice of pizza.

The five year old shook her head vigorously. Margaery Beryl Lopez was the only picky eater in the family besides Rachel. She would try some things, but only if the things looked "normal". Santana knew pizza with anchovies was a long shot, but she'd been craving something salty for dinner.

"One bite?" she asked again.

Margie shook her head. "No. They look funny."

"Alright," Santana sighed. "More for us, then. Pick them off and give them to your brothers."

"I'm home!"

"We're in here!" Santana called back to Rachel. "Dinner time."

Rachel took her coat off and sat down next to Carmine. "Hi family. Sorry I'm late. Ew…sardines."

"Like mother, like daughter."


	176. Morning Rituals

**Morning Rituals**

Quinn opened her eyes and struggled to wiggle away from Santana. She'd never understand this—how they went to sleep with her spooning the younger woman, and woke up half suffocating under her. "San?"

Santana grunted, wiggled, and stayed asleep.

"Santana Diabla, we need to get up!"

"jakjdiajfaghamemfdjfjphhhh…"

Quinn poked her in the ribs, just like every morning.

Just like every morning, Santana squeaked and rolled off of her. "Q!"

"I tried to wake you gently."

Santana grumbled and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Coffee."

They zombie walked down to the kitchen. As Santana got coffee and breakfast ready, Quinn started making their lunches.

"Do you think we'd be like…cursed or something if we did this the opposite way around?" Santana muttered sleepily.

"Say what?"

"I always make breakfast, and you always make lunch. Would, like, the universe explode if we switched it round?"

"…S?"

"Yeah?"

"It's too damn early for philosophy."

"Right. Pass the jam."


	177. Marlana

**Marlana**

"What would our celebrity couple name be?"

"Hmmm?" Santana asked, not taking her eyes from the video game she was playing.

"Our celebrity name. Like Brangelina. Martana? Marlana? Ropez?"

"Why does your name get to be first?"

"Um…because I made the first move. I also kissed you first."

"Whoa, whoa!" Santana said, pausing the game and pulling Marley into her lap. "I'm pretty sure I made the first move."

"No…you flirted. But you'll flirt with a llama if it stands still long enough."

"Hey now!"

"You know what I mean," Marley said, kissing her. "I was the one that asked you out."

Santana grumbled a bit. "Yeah, I guess. But I said the big three first."

"The big three?"

"I. Love. You." She punctuated each word with a kiss.

"During sex doesn't count."

Santana snorted. "No. It was during that Christmas break when I took you on the sleigh ride."

"Where did you find a legit royal-looking sleigh in Lima?"

"I knows people."

Marley rolled her eyes and leaned back against her girlfriend. "I like Marlana."

"Yeah…cause 'Ropez' sounds like Scooby Doo is trying to say my last name."


	178. Come Together

**Come Together**

Quinn brushed away a few tears and ran her hands up and down her arms. She didn't know if she was really cold or not, but she couldn't be still. "Hey Santana," she whispered, feeling a pair of arms wrap around her.

"Hey."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds the machines made.

"How is he?"

"Not doing well," the blonde answered in a strained voice. She turned in Santana's arms and hugged her. "Thank you for coming. I know it's kind of an awful time for you to take off of work."

"Hey…don't even worry about it. Remember what we promised each other when we…when we split up?"

Quinn smiled a bit and nodded. "That we'd never bring the kids into our fights, and that we'd always be there for each other."

"Exactly. I'm here as long as you need me."

Quinn pulled away and looked back down at her father. "They gave him three days."

"Do TJ and Sammy know?"

She nodded. "They're staying with Mom. She didn't want to come."

Santana nodded and took Quinn's hand. "I'll stay here with you for a while, if you want."

"I do. Thanks."


	179. One Thing

**One Thing**

It had started two years ago—shortly after Hiram had died. Of course, the two of them talked before that, but now it was a concerted effort. Before bed, no matter where they were, they made a phone call to each other. The rule was that the conversation had to include one thing that made them happy that day—one thing that made them smile.

"…and he just took my hand and started belting, in his perfect seven-year-old voice, Elphie's part of For Good. And I sang with him, and I was in tears, but I was smiling so big because he was," Rachel rambled, wiping a few tears away. "He was so excited, he was shaking. It was perfect."

"I'm sure the crowd went nuts," Santana said.

"Yeah, they loved it. So how about you? Favorite part of your day?"

"Hmmm… let me think."

"Think away, someone's knocking on my door," Rachel said, walking through her expansive hotel room to answer. She let out a squeak when she looked through the spy hole, and opened the door.

"My favorite part of the day was coming to see my wife," Santana said with a grin. "Couldn't miss your final show."

Rachel tackled her in a hug. "I love you."

"Love you too, Rae Bear."


	180. To Have and To Hold

**To Have and Hold**

It had been one of the great mysteries of their relationship—on Marley's side, at least. They were both a bit secretive, a bit reserved, and when it came to letting each other in it was the first and longest awkward point of the whole "figuring US out" game. Marley still said she was easier to read. If she looked sad or tired or upset, she probably was. And she liked being held.

Santana, on the other hand, hated snuggling. Or rather, being snuggled. And she sort of had two levels when it came to moods, scowl or smirk. So Marley usually had no fucking clue what to do when she thought Santana was upset. But seven years together had taught her that on bad days, what Santana wanted was distraction and attention. And Marley was brilliant at that.

"—and then the stupid manager had the nerve to try and accuse me of stealing," the older woman said through a mouth of Shipley donut (a.k.a. the only reason she'd agreed to move to Texas).

"What?" Marley asked. "What happened?"

"Told him to go ahead and call the cops if he thought so. And I'd call the rest of my team of FBI agents to investigate his store for harassment and profiling."

Marley sniggered and drained the water off the Ramen noodles. "So it's safe to say that your day officially, incontrovertibly sucked?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Ramen and anime tonight then."

"Are you trying to pacify me?"

"Yep. I gave up on being sneaky about it years ago."

Santana scowled.

Marley grinned. "I'll let you hold me."

"That sounds like a perk for you."

"Please, like you don't enjoy cocooning me. I'll let you pick which series we watch."

The corners of Santana's lips turned up just slightly. "Are you really bargaining me into a good mood?"

"Not necessarily a good mood, I just don't want you going stabby on the poor Nordstrom manager. Okay, dinner, movie and sex. Let's go."

Santana smiled now.


	181. Owwies

**Owwies**

Santana threw the equipment bag over her shoulder and called goodbye to the class. She was about to go to the store room when her phone rang. "Puckerman Fitness—this is Santana."

"San?"

"Hey Rae, what's up?" Santana asked, concerned. "You sound like you're crying."

"I had a small mishap. Where do we keep the first aid kit?"

"What happened?" Santana asked, tossing the equipment into the store room and making a beeline for the parking lot.

"I was doing some home improvement—"

Santana groaned. They'd just gotten the super media cable package and it had come with the DIY channel. Ever since Rachel's show had closed, she'd been bored and on a home makeover kick. The problem was that she was mediocre on a good day, and a one-woman wrecking crew on a bad one.

"—and I may have inadvertently lacerated myself and hit my thumb with a hammer."

"At the same time?" Santana yelped as she started her car.

"…yes…"

"How much are you bleeding?"

"Ummm…."

"Stay there," Santana said, chuckling. "I'll be home in ten."


	182. Tiny Secrets

**Tiny Secrets**

There were little things that they'd picked up from each other over the years. Santana knew that Rachel got god awful migraines if she stayed in the perfume section of the mall for too long, so they always used another entrance. Rachel knew that Santana was a closet anime fan, and had full series sets of about 20 different shows in a DVD case that she kept hidden in her closet. They knew how to calm each other down after a bad day, and how to motivate each other. And they knew when the other was hiding something.

"I'm telling you, Q," Santana said into the receiver. "She's been acting funny."

"Santana, just talk to her. I'm sure it's nothing. Or it's some weird ass theater thing that she doesn't think you're interested in. Ask her."

"When? She's been creeping around at weird hours and—"

"Does Rachel Berry ever really creep?"

"Okay, fine…she's been coming in late and not that talkative."

"I will concede that that's weird. But really…talk to her."

Santana huffed and tossed her pen down onto her desk. "You're right. Look, I'll call you tomorrow okay?"

"Okay."

Hanging up the phone, Santana grabbed her bag and exited her office. "Yo Puck!"

"What's up?" he called back from the gym floor.

"Going to lunch. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Deuces!"

Santana pulled up to their small house and arched an eyebrow. There was another car there. In the past, in other relationships, she might have panicked, but Rachel basically redefined the word "social". Santana knew it was probably one of her theater friends. She hummed a little as she strode into the house, and heard her wife's musical laughter coming from the living room. "Rachel?"

"In here, Santana!"

She walked in and found Rachel and one of their lawyers. "Hi Sylvia. Who'd she piss off this time?"

Sylvia laughed and Rachel rolled her eyes. "No one, this time," the lawyer said. "Just a check in. Making sure everything's in order. Anyway, I should be going. Have a good weekend."

Rachel came back and snuggled next to Santana on the couch after showing Sylvia to the door. "There's a publisher who wants an autobiography. She brought the contract over."

"Oh, so that's what you've been all tight-lipped about!" Santana said.

"That," Rachel said with a smirk, "and this." She handed her a stack of papers.

"Whoa, what?" Santana yelped. "A puppy? You want to adopt a puppy?"

"Yes," Rachel said simply.

"And why didn't I know about this?"

"I did all the research and picked out a few options without telling you, because I know you think I rush into things headlong without thinking. I have two corgis, a Pomeranian, and two Huskies that I think would do well with us. We just have to fill out the adoption papers, and we can start the process!"

Santana sat staring at her. She was used to being run over and flattened by Rachel's ideas by now, so she went with it. "Er…okay…show me the puppies, I guess."


	183. Jailhouse Rock

**Jailhouse Rock**

_**Based on real events (we just didn't get jail time) :)**_

Santana snorted awake and groped for her phone. "Hello?"

"Santana? I need help."

She was immediately wide awake. "What's up, babe? Are you okay?"

"I'm… I'm in jail."

Santana paused in her rapid scramble for clothes and stared straight ahead, confused. "Run that one by me again?"

"I'm. In. Jail. Please, I need you to come bail me out. My parents are already pissed at me for changing my major from business to English. They'll cut me off completely if I call them from lockup."

Sniggering, Santana threw on a hoodie. "Right. But you owe me a story when I get there. Hang tight, Q-bie. I'm on my way."

* * *

Two hours later, Santana had posted bail and they were headed back to Santana's apartment.

"What the fuck happened?" Santana asked.

"So…the college's new president is a fucktard. He's got this arbitrary new system of discipline hearings. Some of them get handled in house, but he's been making an example out of some people and calling the cops."

"Uh huh…" Santana said, beginning to smile.

"So…my friend Andrea—you remember her right? Tall black violinist with the purple braids? She's got this bucket list of idiotic things to do before you graduate college. One of them was to spend a night in the college's cafeteria—"

Now Santana's smirk was a full blown grin.

"And everything would've worked out, but we didn't know the cleaning staff didn't come in until ten. We didn't wait long enough to go in—got there at like nine forty-five. So of course we got caught. We ran for it when security came round the corner, but one of them was on a motorcycle instead of a golf cart, and of course that's the one that came after me. So Desiree and I got hauled into jail. Her mom came and got her about fifteen minutes before you arrived."

Santana was nearly doubled over in her seat laughing, and even the cab driver was sniggering a bit. "Okay, so what the hell? What happens now?"

"Sentencing's in like a week," Quinn grumbled. "The police and the judge are just as annoyed as we are about getting calls for things that should be disciplinary board matters. I'll probably have to pay a fine and do some community service."

Santana grinned, pulled Quinn closer, and kissed her. "It'll make one hell of a story for the kids one day."


	184. Craving

**Craving**

Flowers for the apartment—check. A few movies for that night—check. More UV Immunity pills for Santana—check. Now, for the last stop of the night, the grocery store. She hated the new stores, they were all cold and smelled like hospitals. It was necessary though, for blood storage. After buying a few things for her dinner, she zipped up her jacked and walked through the sliding glass doors to the Plasma Center.

"Three gallons of B-positive, please," she said, showing her ID.

"Sorry, love. Fresh out," the portly man said.

"Oh, you're kidding!"

"Afraid not. Had a track team come through on an invitational, and they cleaned us out of everything but O-negative."

Rachel pulled a face. "That's okay."

"Try Bullworth's on Fifth."

* * *

She tried Bullworth's. And Hasting's. And TescoUSA. And every convenience store known to man. None had the type of blood she was looking for.

"For the love of god," she said to the young vampire at the counter of Whole Foods. "Please tell me you have B-positive!"

"Sorry ma'am, we're out," he said. "Try AB-negative. It tastes nearly—"

"I HAVE A PREGNANT VAMPIRE AT HOME AND SHE IS CRAVING B-POSITIVE."

"Sorry…but you're just going to have to get it catered."

* * *

"Hey Rae Bear—what the hell happened to you?" Santana yelped, jumping up.

"Just a slight misunderstanding." Rachel put what was left of her bouquet into the vase by the door. "Did you heat the oven?"

"Yeah. Here, let me help."

"No, no…you rest. Oh, and I got your favorite type of blood."

"How?" Santana's eyes lit up. "I saw it on the news—there's a shortage of a couple different types around the northeast."

"I had a slight altercation with a store manager, and he was kind enough to discount some of the platinum catered brand," she said, setting the containers down on the counter.

"I'm the monster, but you're definitely the scary one. Please tell me you left him alive."

"I did. And for the last time, I don't care if you're technically classified as 'monster', please don't refer to yourself as such."

Santana smiled and kissed her. "Thank you. Now feed me. Me and our magical demon child need to eat."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel began helping Santana make dinner.


	185. Booty Call

**Booty Call**

"Okay what?" Quinn asked, taking a sip of her latte.

"We started doing it about a month ago. We do…er…creative booty calls and see how fast the other one can get there."

"So…who's winning?"

"I don't know. Rachel left a five minute message just dirty talking, and I was there in another fifteen minutes. But the other day I called and said I just wanted to cuddle and watch Barbara movies. She was there in ten. Then she called two days ago and told me…er…she told me she got a new tattoo and wondered how long it would take me to find it. I was there in ten minutes and found it in two."

"So now you need to one up her."

"Yeah…but I don't know how. I need something that's grade-A panty-dropping."

"Sing to her," Quinn said, shrugging. "You know how she is with her music."

"Maybe…but what?"

"Something she wouldn't expect, but not something obscure. Something romantic."

A slow smile spread across Santana's face.

* * *

Rachel hoisted her bag onto her shoulders and grabbed her phone. She smiled when she saw a message from Santana. "Bye guys!" she called to her cast mates, hitting the voicemail button on her phone.

_'Cause with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul  
I can tell you there's no place we couldn't go  
Just put your hand on the glass  
I'll be tryin' to pull you through  
You just gotta be strong_

'Cause I don't wanna lose you now  
I'm lookin' right at the other half of me  
The vacancy that sat in my heart  
Is a space and now your home  
Show me how to fight for now  
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy  
Comin' back here to you once I figured it out  
You were right here all along

It's like you're my mirror  
My mirror staring back at me  
I couldn't get any bigger  
With anyone else beside of me  
And now it's clear as this promise  
That we're making two reflections into one  
'Cause it's like you're my mirror  
My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me

Rachel dropped the phone into the cup holder and peeled out of the parking lot. "Car- dial Santana."

"Hey Rachel!"

"I'll be home in ten. You better be ready."


	186. One Day at a Time

**One Day at a Time**

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, peeking into the bathroom as she passed by.

"I've got another pimple," Joffrey said, pinching his forehead.

"Don't do that," Quinn told him, batting his hands away and handing him a tube of acne cream. "It'll scar."

"I don't care," the thirteen year old said. "Get out."

"You want to add a please to that?" Quinn asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Can you please get out?"

Quinn huffed and closed the door, deciding not to rise to his attitude this morning. She went downstairs to the kitchen where Santana was eating breakfast. "What's with Joffrey lately?"

Santana shrugged. "He bite your head off again?"

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to him."

"You've already talked to him. Can I take him to school today?"

"Of course you can."

* * *

"Do you have everything?"

"Yeah."

Quinn pulled over and turned the car off.

"What the fu—"

"Don't even finish that. What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You used to love me. You used to…come running when I would come to get you from school. You used to tell me everything. You used to love spending time with me. And I want to believe that it's just the teenage thing, but you still talk to your mom. What happened?"

Joffrey clenched his fists. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Why are you always so pissed at me then?"

Joffrey looked out of the window.

"Fine," Quinn said quietly. She revved the car again and pulled out of the parking lot.

"I'm not pissed at you," Joffrey said as they pulled up in front of the school. "I'm sorry." He hopped out of the car before she could say anything.

Quinn took a deep breath. "One day at a time."


	187. I Think I Wanna Marry You

**I Think I Wanna Marry You**

Quinn laughed and squirmed away from Santana as the younger woman tried to tickle her. "Okay, okay! Kate Beckinsale could kick Cameron Diaz's ass in an MMA fight!" she yelled.

"Ha!" Santana said, sitting up. "Knew I'd get you to admit it!"

"I was coerced."

"Whatever. You know you spoke only the truth."

Quinn sat up and rewound the last fifteen minutes of Underworld: Awakening. "I'd love to see them in an action movie together. Like…something about super assassins who have to take out three world leaders before WW3 kicks off."

"Your mind terrifies me sometimes," Santana said, snuggling into Quinn. "I still love you, though."

"You better."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah baby?"

"In the middle of discussing movie ideas and watching plenty of blood and gore?"

"Uh huh?"

"Will you marry me?"

Quinn smiled brightly and relaxed against Santana. "I supposed."

"Badass."


	188. Breaking Point

**Breaking Point**

"No."

It was soft. No screaming, or crying. Just…a no. Every rope, every chain, has its breaking point—and people have their breaking points too. That's what his favorite fairy tale said. And as Quinton knelt in the hallway behind one of the pillars, he knew his moms had just reached theirs.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, I'm not moving our family halfway across the world for this. They're in school—they have friends here. I have work here. These programs are expensive. We'd have to sell nearly everything, and start over in Germany, or Taiwan, or Zaire or wherever the fuck—."

"Not true. You're being dramatic. We could keep the house, and most of the furniture, for when we got back after four years. And it's not like we don't have the money."

"We have that money saved up—"

"For what? For what, Santana? We're _millionaires!_ It's not like we're living paycheck to paycheck."

"That's not the point."

"No, the point is that you're being selfish. When we first got married, I moved out to LA with you for your fitness program. I worked two jobs while you got your Master's and I helped get your gym off the ground. And when you decided you wanted to get into the music business, I helped. I've been with you every step of the way. And just this once…this one time, I ask you to do something for me—"

"You're not asking just for me to do something, Quinn!" Santana yelled. "You're asking something that's going to affect all four of us! And it's not a little thing!"

"Shut up! The boys are asleep."

"We have kids now, Quinn. And I know how much you've sacrificed for me and this family. But we can't just uproot them randomly."

"We can't? Really? How about when you were filming and you decided that Little Quinn and Asa could totally move down to Podunk, Alabama for a year and a half."

"They were five! Kindergarten is totally different."

"It always is, when it's you."

"We can't just move to a different country on a whim."

"It's not a whim!" Quinn said, finally raising her voice. "I've wanted to do this since college, and you know it. I got a freaking education degree for a reason. Teaching abroad is my dream. Every year I've pushed this aside for you—for what you wanted. First your career, and then the kids."

"You're saying you didn't want the kids?"

"No—that's not what I'm saying and you know it. I wanted to do this first, and then have the kids. But you went flying into crisis over 'but our biological clocks are ticking!' and you fucking threatened to leave. So I stayed, because I _did_ want kids. And now we have a wonderful family. You have everything you want, right? So why can't we both have it all? It's four years. Military families move around all the time."

"We're not a military family."

"But we're not a normal family either."

Little Quinn sat perfectly still, nearly hyperventilating.

"We're not doing this, Q."

"You're not making this decision for everyone, just because you don't want to. Let's at least run it past them. You know our kids, they're adventurous. They might like—"

"They don't get to decide what this family does and doesn't do."

"No…only you get to do that, right?"

"I can't leave my job."

"You're an entertainer. You can entertain from anywhere."

"No, Quinn."

"I don't see how this is your decision to make."

"If you want to go, fine. But you'll be going alone."

It was quiet again.


	189. Going Home

**Going Home**

_I'm going home_

_Back to the place where I belong_

_And where your love has always been enough for me._

_I'm not running from._

_No, I think you got me all wrong._

_I don't regret this life I chose for me._

_Well these places and these faces are getting old,_

_So I'm going home._

Santana eased the door open and walked into the darkened house. She yawned, and didn't even bother putting her things away properly. Instead, she kicked off her shoes, adding them to the pile by the door, and dropped her bag and keys on the hallway table. Her phone buzzed and she groaned, praying it wasn't her boss texting her. It was, but only to tell her not to come in until noon the next day. She smiled and climbed the stairs.

There were two hallways coming off the spiral staircase, and as much as she wanted to sleep, she chose the hall on the left first. The first door was pink, and had peace signs spray painted on it. She peeked in to her youngest daughter's room, but saw no one. The bed was still made, even. She beat down the slight panic that always accompanied the end of a tough case involving kids, and went to check on her other children. The next door had two rocket ships on it. Inside, it was space station themed, complete with mobile nightlight that threw star patterns on the ceiling—but no twins. Scrunching her forehead in confusion a bit, she closed the door and walked to the next room. It was jungle themed. A ball python sat curled up in one of the many tanks on the far wall. A frog ribbitted from another. Two tarantulas blinked at her, and a parrot snoozed in a cage. But where on earth was her tiny biologist? The last two doors belonged to her teenagers—one door plastered with pop stars and actresses, the other a monument to the sport of hockey. Neither was in their room. With a sigh, she tried to remember if any of them had birthday parties that night, or if they were spending time at David and Blaine's house. She'd ask Quinn in the morning. For now, she needed sleep.

_The miles are getting longer it seems_

_The closer I get to you._

_I've not always been the best man or friend for you,_

_But your love remains true._

_And I don't know why_

_You always seem to give me another try._

Back down the hall, she crossed the landing into the master wing of the house. Their bedroom door was ajar and when she opened it fully, she smiled.

All six kids, to include the thirteen and fifteen year old, were piled into the king sized bed with Quinn. All of them were fast asleep.

Santana, knowing there was no way she'd be able to fit in with her large family, just smiled and closed the door.

"Mami?"

She stopped, and opened it again. "Hey Arianna," she whispered.

The four year old wriggled out from the middle of the bed, effectively waking all the others. A sleepy sort of chaos ensued, ending only when Quinn reminded the group that it was three in the morning and none of them were morning people. Santana hugged and kissed all of their kids as they trouped back to their own rooms. She smiled at Quinn and snuggled into bed with her.

"They missed you," the blonde said, pulling her wife as close as humanly possible. "I missed you."

"I missed you guys too," Santana said, kissing the top her head.

"You're grounded. You're not allowed to leave again for at least a month."

Santana just chuckled and closed her eyes.

_Well these places and these faces are getting old,_

_So I'm going home._

_I'm going home._


	190. Microphone

Santana, Quinn and the rest of the Gleeks laughed at the joke Brittany told, happy that for once it actually made sense. Santana looked up as a hush fell over the table, and then the cafeteria.

Rachel was standing there just inside of the doors, covered in purple slushy, holding a microphone stand. Before Santana could threaten to go Lima Heights on whoever did it to her, Rachel marched over to the slushy machine and started beating the ever loving shit out of it.

First thing to go was the spigot, which broke off jaggedly and started spouting purple and blue sugary ice forth onto the tile. Then she stabbed the end of it straight through the thin plastic side.

Santana's mouth dropped open as her girlfriend went medieval on the Icee machine.

"Santana! Go get your girl before she takes the mic stand to innocent bystanders!" Artie urged.

Santana stood and walked cautiously over to where Rachel was taking out three years of pent up aggression. "Hey, baby…."

"Santana," Rachel said, completely calmly.

"Who…uh…who did it this time?"

"Azimio. But I'm handling the problem." She took another vicious swing, sending the broken container tumbling.

"OKAY, enough," Santana said, prying the mic stand from her hands. "Let's go get you cleaned up." She pulled her out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the Cheerios' locker room, Rachel struggling to get back to the scene of the carnage the entire way. When they were safely locked inside, Santana pushed her up against the wall of one of the showers and kissed her firmly.

"Santana, what the hell?"

"Vengeance is sexy. Let's get you calmed down before any more of the school takes a pounding."


	191. Blind Date

_**LbN: Written for Faberry Week Day 1- Blind Date. xposted to Tumblr. **_

"Please, Rachel?" Ramsay pleaded.

"No."

He turned on his patented "I know I look like Cillian Murphy" puppy eyes. "Please? I know you'd have fun. It's been two years since you had your undercover mystery summer romance that went south. You need to start dating again!"

"I don't think—"

"Stop right there. You are ready. You'll like her. And before you say what you're about to say, no—she's not a theater girl. She works with my brother at the ad firm, and apparently she's really smart. Like super smart. And funny, and gorgeous, and you are going," he insisted.

Rachel huffed. "Fine. But I reserve the right to never let you or your brother scheme about my romantic life ever again if this goes crackers."

"Deal," he said, beaming at her.

* * *

Zazzo's was a pretty cool place. It was fun, but not loud or obnoxious. It had different movie and pop culture memorabilia plastered onto the walls and ceiling, and each table was named after a different pop culture character. Each table also had some sort of ice breaker card game on it that you could play while you waited for your food. It was the perfect sort of place for a first date, and Rachel was happy Ramsay and Austin had had the foresight to choose somewhere she'd be able to find easily, rather than their usual hole in the wall foodie joints.

"Evening!" the host greeted. "Table for one, or are you meeting a group?"

"I had a reservation for the Kahlan Amnell table," she said with a smile.

"Oh, perfect! The other person just got here. Follow me."

Rachel followed him down the steps to the left and around a large cardboard cutout of Darth Vader. He led her to a booth along the far wall.

"Here you are! Enjoy your meal."

The blonde looked up from her phone. "Rachel?"

"Quinn?"

The stared at each other in shock for a long moment before Quinn burst out laughing.

"Oh, this is priceless. How do you know Austin?"

"His brother Ramsay is the male lead in the musical I'm in," Rachel answered.

"You're in a musical now?"

"Spring Awakening. We open in three weeks."

Quinn smiled at her and waved to the seat. "Sit. We can…uh…catch up a bit."

Rachel slid into the booth, heart pounding. "It's been a while," she said quietly.

Quinn nodded. "So…are you enjoying the Broadway life?"

"So far, so good. It's a lot of hard work, but my cast is great. How about you—I thought you were going into law."

"I was, but I changed plans after we…after that summer."

"You really didn't know I was coming, did you?" Rachel asked with a smirk. "The look on your face…."

"Yours was pretty priceless too. I thought I was going to have to catch you for a second. And no. Austin just said his brother knew someone who'd be perfect for me. He didn't give me a lot of details to work with. You?"

"No. I never told them details of what happened that summer, so it's not like they would've known that we knew each other."

"Hi! I'm Amber, and I'll be your server tonight," the waitress said, shocking them out of their thoughts. "Can I start you with some drinks and maybe an appetizer?"

"I'll…just have a water, thanks," Rachel said.

"Same for me."

"Okay, I'll get those right out for you."

The two girls didn't take their eyes off one another.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said finally. "About…you know… everything."

"I never really gave you a chance to explain," Rachel admitted. "I was just—"

"Hurt."

They were silent until the waitress came back and took their order. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel spotted the card game on their table.

"Cards Against Humanity?"

"Oh god…it's awful. In the best way possible, but still awful."

"What is it?"

Quinn grabbed the box and grinned. "It's like Apples to Apples, but with situations and really horrible answers. Like, last time the card as 'blank the story of blank'. So I played 'Justin Bieber, the story of forgetting to pull out'."

Rachel snorted her water laughing. "That's awful, Quinn!"

"Nowhere near as awful as the one that actually won that round."

"Which was?"

"The Virginia Tech Massacre, the story of Asians who can't do math." Quinn laughed at Rachel's horrified expression. "I know. It's bad. Apples shows you how creative and silly your friends are, this game shows you which circle of hell you'll all be in."

"…let's play…."

* * *

Wind whipped at their coats as the exited the restaurant a couple of hours later. Quinn caught Rachel's hand as the brunette turned to leave.

"Rachel…I'm not okay with the way things ended," she said softly. "Can you just…can we start over? I had a great time tonight. I want us to be in each other's lives again."

Rachel looked up at her and smiled. "I would love that too…."

"But?"

"But I'm not sure if we can go back to where we were two years ago," Rachel admitted. "Could we start just as friends, and see where that goes?"

Quinn beamed at her. "Of course. Can I call you next week? Maybe we could go catch a movie or something."

The younger woman nodded and hugged Quinn tightly. After exchanging numbers they went their separate ways for the evening.

* * *

Ramsay was warming up in the ballet studio when he heard a noise behind him. "Rachel! How'd the date go?" he asked.

She didn't say anything at first—just hugged him tightly. "Thank you."


	192. Wind Chimes

**Wind Chimes**

Rachel and Santana stared at their girlfriend.

Quinn fidgeted under their looks of utter disbelief. "Obviously, if you guys like it, we can keep it…."

"No, Quinn. If it bothers you then we don't have to keep it," Rachel said. "We can give it to Brittany and Artie or someone. But…er…"

"Why the hell are you afraid of wind chimes?" Santana sputtered.

Quinn blushed a little. "I know it's stupid. When I was little, Fran and my cousin Jamie used to be super into that show Are You Afraid of the Dark. I was never scared of the super dark or morbid ones. The ones that scared me the most were the stories that seemed peaceful on the surface. It was a little too close to home for me. And they always had wind chimes in the background of whatever Stepford-perfect family activity was taking place while someone was being murdered upstairs or whatever. The noise just sort of hits my fight or flight buttons."

Rachel and Santana shared another glance.

"Okay," Santana said, smiling. "No wind chimes."


	193. Sugar

**Sugar**

Matteo jumped up onto the chair, smiling brightly along with his friends.

"All righty, little cowboys and cowgirls!" Mr. Jameson said jovially. "Who's ready for birthday cake?"

All of the kids except for Matteo started clamoring.

"Chocolate or vanilla?" Mr. Jameson asked, over and over, until he got to him. "How about you, Matteo? Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Oh, thank you Mr. Jameson, but I can't have cake. I'll just have the cookies my mom packed for me."

Jameson scowled a little. He couldn't stand these New Age, hippy parents who thought their special snowflakes couldn't handle a little sugar, or wouldn't let kids be kids under the idiotic excuse of "allergies". "How about just a small piece?"

"No thank you. I can't have it—it makes me sick."

"Fine…mommies' cookies for the fragile prince," he grumbled, retrieving the plastic bag from the counter.

Matteo flushed with embarrassment as the other kids laughed and started calling him the same thing.

"You're fragile!" David, the birthday boy, said through a mouthful of cake.

"You don't even know what that means!" the nine-year-old snapped.

"It means you're dumb and weak and won't eat cake."

Before Mr. Jameson could correct his son, Matteo said, "I'll show you weak," and punched David square in the nose.

* * *

"That's seven minutes of pure nonsense," Santana said, groaning at the ending notes of Quinn's new favorite song. It was by whatever pop group was now flavor of the week, and it was long and obnoxious.

"You love it," Quinn said, grinning. "You're going to be singing, 'sticking by you till the sun don't shine, till the moon don't glow, till I stop drinking wine' for the rest of the week."

"Lies."

The phone rang, and Quinn hit the answer button on the dash. "Hello?"

"Hi, Quinn? This is Randall…uh…we had a bit of a situation at the party."

"Really? What happened?"

"David and Matteo sort of got into a fight."

"We're on our way," Santana said.

They were there within ten minutes, and walked into the living room to see the rest of the kids playing a game in the backyard with Mrs. Jameson, while David and Matteo sulked on the couch under Mr. Jameson's stern eye.

"What happened?" Quinn asked, taking in David's broken nose and Matteo's black eye.

"I'm sorry," Jameson said. "It's mostly my fault. I made a comment and it got out of hand very quickly." He relayed the story to the two mothers, and flinched a bit when they scowled at him.

"Okay, boys," Quinn said. "No more hitting or name calling. That is not how we behave, and I know that both of you know that, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, Mommy."

"Apologize to one another and go outside to play."

Once the two were outside, Santana turned to Randall. "Seriously?"

"Santana," Quinn said gently. "Look, Randall…we know you're a teacher. And you probably have dealt with your fair share of crazy dietary needs by parents who jump on whatever nutrition bandwagon is in vogue that year, right?"

"Right."

"Okay then. So we take half of the responsibility for the fight, because we've taught him that he can't have sugar, but we taught him in a way that he can explain it to kids his own age. We forgot that sometimes he'll have to explain it to adults. He has diabetes, as your wife knows."

"She had to run out," he groaned. "On call with the hospital."

"Right, well…his reason for not wanting to eat cake was legitimate. And it's not like he was asking you to make something else…we packed snacks for him. So next time, just roll with it."

"Right…sorry."

"Looks like the game is over," Santana said as the kids trouped back in. "You ready to go, buddy, or do you want to stay for presents?" she asked Matteo.

"Presents!" he said, hugging David.

"Friends again already," Quinn said, smiling at Randall.


	194. Sharing

**Sharing**

Sure, she'd promised Rachel not to go snuffling through her stuff like an excitable Doberman again, but things were desperate. The facts were these: she, Kurt and Rachel were not sharing an apartment anymore. She'd gotten into Columbia, and had her own dorm room now. That meant no more sharing of "supplies". That meant she had her own perfume and shampoo. But somehow, she was burning through both at a surprisingly fast rate. She knew how much shampoo she used, damn it! She huffed and wondered if her hunch was wrong. Then, she spotted Rachel's teddy bear (which was actually a stuffed lion named Lyle, but Rachel still called it a teddy bear). She sauntered over, picked him up, and took a whiff. "AH HA!"

* * *

When Rachel returned home after work, she found Santana sitting on the couch watching Adventure Time and eating ramen. Lyle was sitting beside her for some reason. "Having fun with my lion?" she asked with a smile.

"Mmmhmmm. We were just discussing his grooming habits."

"Huh?"

"His grooming habits. You see, I noticed his fur had an extra shine to it lately. And he smells really good." She smiled, seeing the light bulb go off for Rachel.

The younger woman fidgeted. "It was a few months ago when we were both really busy. You were doing your internship and I was practicing for Mamma Mia. I missed you so much, but I knew it would put a strain on our relationship if I got clingy. So I sort of…bathed Lyle in your shampoo and gave him a few spritzes with your perfume so that he smelled like you."

Santana grinned and patted the seat next to her. "We'll get him his own bottles, okay? And, for the record," she said, putting her bowl down and pulling Rachel into "little spoon" position, "You can get clingy whenever you want."


	195. Zoo

**Zoo**

Of course, the parents had arranged everything beforehand, but watching small children navigate the social landscape of elementary school was adorable, so they left the face to face invitations up to them.

"Go on," Rachel told Kona, nudging him forward.

"Andy?" Kona said. "Um…sometimes for our birthday, we can go do cool stuff for the day. We're going to the zoo on Saturday…do you want to come if you're allowed?" he asked, glancing between his best friend and his best friend's dad.

Andy looked up at his father with excited eyes. "Can I?"

"Sure, buddy!"

"Yeah!" the other fourth grader said.

Rachel smiled. A few meters off, Santana was watching their other twin, Kai, have the same conversation with his best friend Amy. "We'll call you tomorrow with details," she told Andy's dad.

"Sure thing," he said, taking Andy's hand and leading them to the car.

There was a small cough behind them, and Rachel turned to see Kona's teacher standing behind them. She smiled slightly and said, "I hear it's your birthday soon!"

"Yes ma'am!" Kona said brightly.

"That's great. Could I talk to your mom for just a minute?"

He nodded, hugged her, and ran off to where Santana and Kai were waiting.

"We have a rule at the school that the entire class must be invited to birthday parties," Mrs. Simms said. "It prevents bullying."

Rachel did her best not to roll her eyes. "Yes, that's why our twins don't have parties. We take them out for the day. This year they asked if their best friends could come, and we said yes."

"Well…that's a birthday celebration, and it's kind of the same thing," Simms said, in a voice that she probably used on her slower students.

"No it's not. It's not the same thing at all. We have twins in two different classes—that's nearly forty kids you're implying I have to take to the zoo. Forget it, Mrs. Simms. I'm sure the school's heart is in the right place with that rule, but it's idiotic. First of all, it puts financial and logistical strain on families. Second, it doesn't stop bullying in the slightest." She peeked over her shoulder to make sure Santana was still a long way off before continuing. "I was bullied. And I mean seriously bullied. From sixth grade through junior year of high school, I dealt with bullshit that I hope my boys never go through. So trust me, I get the struggle. I was left out of parties all the time, and it sucked, but I dealt with it. And when I was invited out of the parents' sense of pity? That was an hour or two for the rest of the girls to be evil little shits to me. We're not doing this to buck the rules or start a revolution or anything. This is just what works for our family. I hope you can respect that." Without another word, she left the stunned teacher, turned and marched back over to Santana.

"Everything okay?" Santana asked, helping the boys with their backpacks.

"Fine," Rachel said, kissing her. "Let's get a move on, soldiers! We have a zoo day to plan."


	196. Boiling Point

_**LbN: Sequel to Breaking Point**_

"Quinton Alexander Lopez-Fabray! Be still!" Santana yelled, trying to force the 11 year old into some pants.

"No! Get off me!"

"You're too old for this! Stay still! We're going to be late."

"I don't want to go to your stupid dinner with your stupid friends!"

"Well you have to! It's for the family. We won a really important award, and—"

"I don't care about your stupid awards! You're making Mommy leave us, and I hate you!"

Santana stopped all movement at that, and Little Quinn took that opportunity to flop on the ground and scoot to the farthest corner of the room, glaring the whole way.

"What?" Santana asked, still shocked.

"She's leaving, and you won't let us go with her all because of your dumb work. You want all of us to do everything for your stupid career, but you never do the same for her. I'm not going tonight," he said, starting to cry. "I want to go with her! I don't want to stay here with you!"

Santana sat there, open mouthed. "She told you—"

"She didn't tell me anything. I heard you fighting last week."

There was a long moment of silence where the two just looked at each other. Finally, Santana cleared her throat and said, "You don't have to go tonight. There's leftovers in the fridge." Without another word, she walked out the door.

* * *

Quinton's eyes fluttered open as a dim light shone into his room. "Hi Mommy."

Quinn knelt by his bed, party dress pooling around her. "Hi baby. I need to talk to you."

"I want to go with you," he whispered earnestly.

"I know. But you still need to apologize to Momma. You don't hate her."

"I do. She's making us leave. We could all be together, but she's making you go without us."

Quinn sighed. "I don't want you telling Momma you hate her again. That's rude, and you don't. She's not making me go—this is my decision."

"I want to go with you," he said.

She kissed his forehead and pulled the covers up to his chin. "We'll talk about it. Goodnight."


	197. Take Me Back

_**LbN: Written for Faberry Week. Lyrics below are by Story of the Year.**_

_Take me back_

_Back to better days_

'_Cause this time between in wasting me away._

_Take me back_

_When we were not afraid_

'_Cause this time between is wasting me away._

* * *

"_I wish we'd had more time together," Quinn said, tears streaming down her face._

_Rachel, pale, bald, but still smiling, took her hand. "We had all the time we needed."_

_Quinn shook her head. "We didn't. I spent so long—"_

"_Stop, Quinn. It's in the past. Both of us made mistakes, but we got it right in the end. That's what matters."_

"_I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

* * *

"You should be resting."

"Can't sleep."

Santana sat next to her best friend. "Quinn…are you sure about this? It's dangerous. We already saw what happened when someone tried to go back and screw with time."

"They were messing with things on a grand scale," Quinn said. "This invention has been available for years now. It's safe enough, as long as I don't change anything big."

"It might not be big to the world, but it's a pretty big thing in terms of your life, Q," Santana said softly.

Quinn smiled at her. "It's your invention, so it's your call. If you don't want me to go, I won't."

Santana bit her lip. "I…god, I hate it when you do that. Fine. I'll be right there in the room the entire time, panicking until you get back."

Quinn leaned over and hugged her. "Thank you."

"Whatever, Blondie," Santana said, but held her tightly. "Just don't splinch yourself trying to rewrite history."

* * *

Lopez Time Travel had been closed for the day. The portals stood empty and powered down—all except one. Santana stood at the control panel, keying in a few more things. Finally, she nodded and looked up at Quinn. "Right, one trip down memory lane, coming up. I've got November, 1999, June 2006 and August 2008."

"That's right. Thanks," Quinn said, stepping into the portal. She gave her best friend a thumbs up, and a blue light engulfed her. Her heart raced faster as she heard Santana's voice count down.

Five….

Four….

Three….

Two….

One….

Quinn felt a rush of wind and dust, and when she opened her eyes again, she was in her childhood room. She blinked a few times, and tried to calm her breathing. With a pang, she realized that it was her sister's birthday. She knew, because Cassie had been in a particularly generous mood and allowed her to play with the big kids. She'd been too tired to function and had gone to bed with face paint still on. Smiling despite the huge weirdness, Quinn walked over to her younger self and knelt by the bed. "Lucy?"

The pudgy five year old opened her eyes. "Who are you?" she asked sleepily.

"I'm…it's hard to explain."

"Are you an angel?"

Sure, why not? Angel, time traveler, it's all the same to a kid. "Yeah. I'm your special guardian angel. Can I talk to you?"

Little Quinn nodded and sat up a bit.

"This is very important," Quinn said. "In a few years, you're going to change schools. You're going to be very pretty and very popular. But you'll also be kind of scared. You know how it feels when people look at you and you know they want you to be perfect?"

The tiny version of herself nodded again.

"That's going to happen a lot more. And you're going to meet a girl who knows exactly how to be herself without that scary feeling you get. She's going to be loud and obnoxious and obsessed with songs that you don't care about. Her name is Rachel. You're going to want to be mean to her."

"I am?"

"Yes. But you won't. You have to remember that she's your…your Rachel. And you have to look out for her. She's going to be the most special person in your life one day."

"Really?"

"Really."

"How come?"

Quinn smiled. "I can't tell you. But I will promise that when things get hard, when you need a reminder to be her hero…." Quinn choked up a little at this, using what was once Rachel's pet name for her. "I'll help you. Remember I'm always watching out for you."

"Will I see you again?"

Quinn stood up. "Yes, you will." A beeping sounded from her watch and she stood back. "Goodbye, for now."

Another rush of wind, and this time it smelled faintly of burning dust. Quinn opened her eyes to see her twelve year old self sitting quietly on a bench outside of the school. "Hey there."

"You again?"

"Me always. How's the nose?"

Young Quinn shrugged.

"How's the diet?"

Young Quinn scowled.

"Are you doing what I asked?"

"I can't stand her!"

"I know. That's why I thought you might need a reminder. She'll need a friend. You might need a friend even more in a few years."

"Santana and Brittany don't like her."

"They will, once they get to know her."

They sat quietly for a long moment.

"But she's a loser," Young Quinn finally said, uncomfortable with the silence.

"She's the biggest winner of everyone you know. Please don't take another six years to realize that."

"…what should I do?"

"Ask your mom to rent some movies. Bike over to her house, and ask if she wants to hang out. I promise you, she does."

"How do you know?"

"Call it a hunch. Please don't wait. It'll only get harder in high school."

"This blows."

Quinn smiled. "I hear ya." Her watch beeped again. "Gotta run. Remember what I said."

Wind, dust, wind, dust, and stillness.

Someone was crying.

"You're pregnant," Quinn said, looking at herself from sophomore year.

The sobs faded to hiccups.

"I'd hoped that that wouldn't happen. Did you take my advice?" she asked, taking in the girl's Cheerios uniform.

"Yes," Quinn snapped. "I took your advice. Rachel and I are best friends now. You want to tell me how that helps with this?" she asked, pointing to her stomach.

"She'll be right by your side the whole way. Er…whose is it?"

"Puck's."

"Does he know?"

"Yes. So does Finn."

"How did Rachel take it?"

"GOD, what IS it with you and RACHEL?" Quinn bellowed.

Quinn smiled. "Did she look heartbroken? She pulls that look off well."

Quinn snorted. "Yes. She looked like I'd just killed her pet chicken."

"She has a pet…never mind. Not the point. Did you feel guilty?"

"Yes. And I don't know…." The teenager trailed off, open mouthed. "No," she said. "You can't seriously be implying that I somehow cheated on my best friend."

"Well…no. You're not dating…yet."

"THIS DAY CANNOT GET ANY WORSE! YOU'RE SERIOUSLY SAYING I'M GAY?"

"Look at it this way, I'm sparing you the gay panic you're supposed to go through sophomore year of college."

They sat staring at each other for a long moment.

"What should I do?"

Quinn's heart clenched, remembering how lost she'd felt. "Step one: get the hell away from Terri Schuester. Bitch be cray. Step two, and you're not going to like it, is to tell Mom and Daddy."

The teenager looked quite terrified at the thought.

Quinn squeezed her shoulder. "You'll be okay. I promise. It's going to suck for a while, but it'll work out. Oh, and keep an eye on Mercedes when she joins the Cheerios, okay?"

Teen Quinn nodded and wiped her eyes. "This is the last time I'll see you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But you're going to be fine. I know it for sure."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Beeping. Constant beeping, and the rush of wind and dust came back.

"Quinn?" Santana asked.

Quinn felt her best friend half carrying, half dragging her over to a seat. "Hey."

"Shut up, you're tired as shit. I knew I should've only let you leap twice."

"It's…it's okay. I'm okay. Can you get me home? I need to check."

Santana nodded. "Sure. Let's go."

* * *

The thing about altering time for yourself was that it took a while for the memories to sort themselves out. Patience had never been Quinn's strong suit, so she went straight for the photo albums and yearbooks. She let out a relieved sigh. "Santana, look!"

"It's all of us," Santana said, grinning at the picture. "And your girl was a Cheerio."

"It worked," Quinn said. "I got it right."

That night, she lay in bed, enjoying the memories. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew that this wasn't the way it had gone the first time around. But these were just as real, and she cherished them as she fell asleep.

* * *

"_I wish we'd had more time together," Quinn said, tears streaming down her face._

_Rachel, pale, bald, but still smiling, took her hand. "You've been my best friend since eighth grade. We had all the time we needed."_

_Quinn smiled and nodded. "I love you."_

"_I love you too."_


	198. Legend

**Legend**

Marley tried not to cry as she picked up her scattered books. "Freshman year sucks," she muttered to herself.

"Those volleyball chicks still giving you a rough time?" someone asked, holding out a hand.

She looked up to find Jake standing there. "Hey," she said, allowing him to help her up.

"You know…you could ask for help."

"Yeah? From who?"

"Quinn Fabray."

"Senior, head Cheerio Quinn Fabray?" Marley asked with a laugh. "Why on earth would she want to help me?"

"Let's just say…it's a special day for her. She's in a generous mood today."

"What's that even mean?"

"It's her goddaughter's birthday. She'll grant any request. You know she rules this school."

"You make it sound like she's in the mafia."

Jake laughed and held out an arm. "Let me walk you to class. I'll tell you a story."

* * *

"_Santana?" Quinn called softly. "S, what's wrong?"_

"_I…I can't…."_

"_Shhh…come here. What is it?" Quinn asked, holding the crying girl._

"_I fucked up. I've fucked everything up," the younger girl sobbed._

"_It's going to be okay. Just tell me what happened. We'll fix it."_

"_I was so worried about…someone outing me," Santana hiccupped. "I…I slept with Puckerman."_

_Quinn closed her eyes for a moment. "Does Rachel know yet?"_

_Santana shook her head. "I didn't want to tell her. I just wanted to forget about it, but…. I'm pregnant."_

_Quinn held her a little tighter. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Okay…okay. It's going to be okay."_

"_How? Rachel's going to leave me when she finds out. I'm going to fall to below the bottom of the social ladder. Everything's going to fall apart."_

"_No. I'm going to help you. Even if I have to kick ass and take names every day. You're going to be fine. It's going to be okay."_

* * *

"She kept her promise, to say the least," Jake said. "Through sheer force of will, badassery, and a couple of public beatings. Now, she and Santana are the most feared people in the school. And every year, on Santana's daughter's birthday, she grants requests to us plebes. At least, those of us in the know."

"How do you know all this?" Marley asked.

"McKinley legend. Go on," he nodded to where Santana, Rachel and Quinn were standing at the end of the hall, talking.

"If you're screwing with me—"

"No, I'm not. I'm a joker, but I'm not sadistic. I wouldn't do anything that would get you slushied."

Marley took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked over to the trio. "Erm…excuse me?" she said, cursing how little her voice sounded.

The three older girls turned and studied her. Rachel looked a little surprised, Santana just smirked, but Quinn….

Quinn was the one Marley was truly afraid of. She had a way of looking at you like she could see straight to your soul. Every lie you'd ever told, every secret…Quinn knew it, and she could do it better. "Yes?" she asked, in a friendlier tone than Marley had expected.

"I…I'm Marley. Marley Rose. I've seen you around and…well…I had a favor to ask. If you're not busy."

"What favor would that be?"

"It's just that…I've been having trouble with some girls on the volleyball team. I don't know what I did to put a target on my back, but…I need help."

Quinn smiled and put an arm around her. "Walk with me, Marley. I can take care of it for you."

"Really?" Marley asked, relief rushing through her.

"For a small price."

Her smile faltered. "What?"

"Tell me, Marley Rose…can you sing?"


	199. Kidz Bop

**Kidz Bop**

Santana stopped just outside of her daughter's room, listening hard. She knew the tune of the song, but JJ had definitely changed the words.

"I'ma buy you a Coke! I'ma take you to the park with meeee!"

Santana snorted with laughter, walking the rest of the way to the kitchen. "Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you like to let JJ listen to the 'clean' version of stuff, but seriously…no more Kidz Bop."


	200. Balderdash

**Balderdash**

"The word is agastopia," Rachel read from the Balderdash card. "And the options are: a view from the smallest mountain in the range…the eye condition where one is a different color from the other…and the sensation of your skin being damp when it isn't."

There was furious scribbling as Santana, Quinn and Brittany wrote down their votes and passed them to Rachel.

"Quinn wins again, with option one."

"Damn it!" Santana moaned.

"We really shouldn't play with the English major…" Brittany said with a grin.

Quinn just smiled and moved her piece closer to the finish line.


	201. Blamed

**Blamed**

"I blamed you."

"I know you did."

The waves rolled in, crashing loudly onto the rocks below them. The lights of the town glowed in the distance.

"It was an accident, right?"

"I swear it was."

Quiet again, as the two women listened to the ocean. The older one grabbed the younger one's hand.

"I believe you. I…I forgive you."

A sob, louder than the waves.

"It's going to be okay.


	202. Cheer Up

**Cheer Up**

Santana poured three mugs of tea and brought them into the living room. She set them on the table and cuddled into Rachel's other side, opposite Quinn. "Bad day, Shorty?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes. It was awful."

"We've got to cheer our hobbit up," Quinn said, kissing Rachel's forehead.

"Make me laugh, Santana," Rachel demanded with a small smile.

Santana picked up her mug of tea, thinking for a moment. "Ever wonder what kind of person applies to work at a dildo factory?" She smiled over the rim of her mug as both Quinn and Rachel doubled over with laughter. "Mission accomplished."


	203. Night In

**Night In**

Quinn laughed as Santana threw her on the bed and pounced. "San…S, what the hell?"

"I had a good day," Santana said, smiling into Quinn's shoulder. She continued to pepper her neck and face with kisses.

"I thought we were going to the movies."

"Nope."

"Why not?" Quinn whined, but it was halfhearted as Santana got slightly more aggressive with her kisses.

"Because I want you to myself right now…tonight…make that, all weekend."

"Night in…sounds good."


	204. I Wanna Dance with Somebody

**I Wanna Dance with Somebody**

Santana watched from the sidelines as her son waltzed with one of the little girls in the dance class. One of the dads leaned over,

"He's amazing," he said, smiling.

"His aunt is a choreographer."

"Ahhh… that makes sense."

"Which one's yours?"

"The brunette with the pigtails."

"Amanda? She's adorable. I think she has a little crush on Kona."

"All of them do," he said with a chuckle. "My wife told me he's all the girls can talk about."

"Alright, class!" the dance teacher called. "We're going to be doing scenes from the Nutcracker for our holiday recital. Of course, Kona will be the prince, and we'll be taking turns practicing the dance with him to determine who will be the princess."

The girls started clamoring to be the first to dance with him, with Kona stood back with a shy smiled.

"I want to dance with Kona first!" Amanda called.

"Why would he want to dance with you?" a tiny redhead girl asked. "You're ugly."

The room went silent, except for the little girl's mom. "That's my baby, telling it like it is! She's a little diva."

"She's a little asshole," Santana said, a little louder than she intended. Still, she returned the mom's glare.

Amanda's face had crumpled, but she held tears in as she walked over to her dad.

Kona ran and caught up with her. In a loud, carrying voice he said, "She's a bully. And she's wrong. You're very pretty. I'd love to dance with you."

The parents were silent as he led her back to the dance floor.

"We need to talk about an arranged marriage," Amanda's dad whispered. "Seriously."

* * *

Quinn locked the door to the art gallery and sighed. It had been a long week. "Ready to go, Kai?" she asked, taking her son's hand.

"Yeah! Can we have—"

"No, we're not getting pizza for dinner," she said, laughing. Both twins had been in a picky eater stage lately. If she never set foot in a Dominos again, it would be too soon. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the text as Kai buckled himself in.

_Just in case you forgot, we're raising two little PIMPS. I'll fill you in when we get home. Also, our future daughter-in-law likes chicken piccata, so you and Kona will need to learn to cook it. Xo, S._

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Let's go see what your Mami and brother have gotten themselves into, Kai."


	205. Going to the Chapel

**Going to the Chapel**

Quinn couldn't stop smiling. Today was the day—the big one—the day each of them had been speculating about for sixteen long years. She looked up to the front of the church where her boys were standing—Kona in front, Kai just behind him as best man, Alex, Dougie, and Matt. Hearing a sniffle to her left, she turned and took Santana's hand.

"We knew he'd be the first," she whispered.

"Don't care," Santana said. "Not ready."

The organ started and everyone stood to watch as Charles walked Amanda down the aisle. The man beamed at them before hugging Kona ("Handshakes are for pussies, and for father-in-laws who don't like their son-in-laws. We're hugging, boy, and that's that."), and giving Amanda away.

* * *

"_I think Amanda's having a little stage fright," Charles said. "I'm no good at this whole girly thing."_

"_I'm a girl, and I hear you," Santana told him._

"_I'll go talk to her," Kona said._

_Both parents looked at each other, and quietly followed to watch. _

"_Is he always like this?"_

"_Helpful, with a way with the ladies?" Santana asked. "Yeah. Takes after me."_

_Charles snorted. "Good grief."_

"_Shh, I can't hear."_

"_I bet Courtney never gets scared," Amanda said._

"_That's 'cause she's always hopped up on Dr. Pepper and Pixie Stix," Kona said. "You're going to be fine. You're a great dancer. And we're not doing the whole play—just parts of it—so you don't have to worry about getting tired. Any time you're nervous, just look at me. I won't let you fall."_

* * *

_Quinn tried not to laugh as she watched her son fidget nervously on the porch. _

"_Hi, Mr. Pennington," Kona said, voice squeaking. "Erm… is Amanda ready?"_

"_She is. Where will you two be going?"_

"_Just to see the new Avengers movie at the IMAX, sir."_

"_Good, good…."_

"_Hi Kona!" Amanda said, hugging him._

_The boy blushed to the roots of his hair, but hugged her back. "Hi."_

"_Have her back by ten," Charles said._

"_Yes, sir."_

* * *

It was Quinn's turn to tear up as the couple exchanged rings and recited their vows. She felt Santana squeeze her hand and saw Kai smiling at her from the altar. Whatever. At least she'd held out longer than Santana with the tears….

* * *

"_You said you had a damn good reason I should let you whisk my daughter away to Hawaii for two weeks," Charles said, pouring himself a whiskey and Kona a Sprite. "Please do share it. This I can't wait to hear."_

_Kona smiled. "I…well, this year Kai and I found our biological mother. With our moms' help. And we've been in a bit of contact, but we've never met. We're meeting her for the first time when we go, and Amanda…well, I could use the moral support."_

_Charles gave him a searching look. Then he nodded. "Good enough for me. But I said it at junior prom and I'll say it again now…. Get her pregnant before she goes to college, and studies abroad, and does all that 'independent woman' stuff we both know she's dying to do? I will kill you."_

_Kona grinned. "Understood."_

* * *

_Santana watched with a smile as Amanda and Kona played with the younger boys. "She's great."_

"_I agree. It's going to be like the apocalypse if those two ever break up," Quinn said, then laughed at Santana's horrified expression. _

"_Don't even speak of such things!"_

"_S, you know it's going to happen. It might only be temporary, but…they're about to go off to college. Kona's going to Florida, and Amanda's going to freaking Oxford. It's going to be a struggle for them. You need to prepare yourself now."_

"_No. I refuse. They're soul mates."_

"_So are we," Quinn said, cuddling into her from behind. "Didn't stop us from losing our minds for two years."_

_Santana huffed. "Point taken."_

_They both gazed out into the back yard where it seemed the game had turned into "Everyone gang up on the twins."_

"_They'll end up together."_

"_Definitely."_

* * *

Kona and Amanda had chosen a serious throwback for their first dance. Here and Now by Luther Vandross, because both of them lived by the "oldie, but goodie" standards of music. Halfway through the song, however, there was a record scratch.

"What's…oh, no way…" Santana said, as Waltz of the Snowflakes came on.

If the parents hadn't been crying already, they definitely were now as the bride and groom reenacted their true first dance together. They did about thirty seconds of the dance before Luther came back on, and they finished the song.


	206. Mentor

**Mentor**

Marley shifted, hearing someone in her room. What time was it? She rolled onto her side and looked at the clock through bleary eyes. "Mom?"

"Nope!"

"Santana?"

"There you go. Get up, your mom's cooking us breakfast."

"What are you doing here?" Marley asked, sitting up and yawning.

"Mentoring. Where do you keep your swimsuits?"

"What?"

"Swimsuits, Woman Fierce! Which drawer?"

"I only have one," Marley said, still not quite awake enough to follow her mentor. "Top drawer. Why do—"

"I'm taking you on a little trip. I came by just to see how you were doing, and your mom informed me that you'd never been on a road trip before. Yes, it came up in conversation. So that's what we're doing this weekend. Up and at 'em, kid!"

Marley swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "You're serious?"

"Serious as Harry's godfather. Let's move."

It took Marley a second to get that. Then she grinned and started to get ready.


	207. Lab Partners

**Lab Partners**

It was good to be McKinley's HBIC—people didn't argue. She glared at the trollish hockey player. "Switch with Santana," she snapped.

"Huh?" he asked, fiddling with his goggles. "Why?"

"Because you're an idiot who thinks science should be colorful. You mix colors to see what you'll end up with. If you mix that red with this blue, the purple you'll get will evacuate the school. Move."

Santana smirked as the boy moved to the next table. She leaned in to talk to Quinn. "What's in the blue jar for real?"

"Water with food coloring. I was messing around before class started."


	208. Name Day

They'd decided to schedule a C-section because they knew each other, and they knew the level of insanity that would come from just waiting on Junior to take his sweet time. It would've been insane. However, as Quinn drove them to the hospital, she was starting to think that this wasn't much better.

"San, just breathe," she said. "You're going to be fine."

"Distract me," Santana pleaded, nearly hyperventilating.

"Names!" Quinn said brightly. "What should we name our little demon?"

"I don't know! Why didn't we decide this already?"

"It's fine; it's okay," Quinn said, cringing. "We wanted to wait until we met him, remember? But we can talk about it. What about…Wiggins?"

Santana glared at her.

"Mercutio?"

"…"

"Alphonsus?"

"Don't make me kill you."

"…Tanto?"

"I would get away with it."

"Boaz?"

"I could blame pregnancy hormones…wouldn't see an hour of jail time."

"Okay, okay…" Quinn said, sniggering. "What about…Shane?"

"No. I've never met a kid named Shane who wasn't an asshole. It's also the name of the kid who's always getting molested on Law and Order: SVU."

"WHAT?" Quinn asked as she pulled into the hospital's parking lot.

"It's true! Every episode, some kid named Shane or Tucker or Emily or Sarah is getting touched by some preacher or uncle."

"And now I know what you were doing all day on bed rest."

That earned a grin from Santana. "Come on. Let's go meet our little boy."

* * *

"Quinn?" Rachel called, rushing over when the blonde came through the doors.

"How's S?" Brittany asked.

"Great!" Quinn said, beaming. "She was amazing. Sleeping right now. And our little goober's doing well too. Come on." She linked arms with them and led them down the hall to the nursery. "Two from the left, first row. Meet your godson, Blaise Rafael Lopez-Fabray."


	209. Coming Home

**Coming Home **

_I'm coming home,_

_Coming home._

_Tell the world I'm coming home._

_Let the rain wash away_

_All the pain of yesterday._

_I know my kingdom awaits, _

_And they've forgiven my mistakes._

_I'm coming home,_

_Coming home._

_Tell the world I'm coming home._

"So, what are we up to today, Santana?" Blaine asked, pointing the camera at his friend.

"Today is my son Jeremy's birthday," she said, smiling into the camera. "I've been in Afghanistan for about a year and a half. I had a short period of leave, but I haven't seen him and my wife Quinn in about ten months. So, they think I'm not coming home until June. I'm going to surprise them today."

The car pulled up to the back entrance of Bigz Burger Bunker, and the manager showed them in. From around the corner, Santana could see Quinn and Jeremy having cake with the other Gleeks and their kids. With a grin (and wiping away a couple of tears) she hopped into the oversized present box that Blaine had brought. She could barely keep from laughing as she felt them pick her up and carry her over—bringing her closer to her family.

"Hey buddy!" Blaine said.

"Uncle Blaine!"

"Sorry I'm late. Your present took a while."

"It's big!" the six-year-old said.

"Is it okay if he opens this one first?"

There was a lot of noise from the kids, and Quinn must have said yes. The top came away from the box, and Santana stood up slowly.

"Hey little guy!"

Shock, happiness, tears. Jeremy threw himself at Santana at the same time as Quinn. She held both of them close, ignoring the screams from the group and the applause from the rest of the restaurant.

She was home.


	210. Swim

**Swim **

The crowds in London were crazy. Rachel held Santana's hand firmly as they made their way through the Olympic village. They could smell the chlorine as they approached the natatorium. The younger girl could hardly contain her excitement.

"I can't believe we're here," she squeaked. "Do you think we'll be able to see them?"

"We'll be right up front," Santana said, smiling. "Don't worry. Brittany's swimming first, then Quinn about thirty minutes later."

"I'm so nervous for them."

"Don't worry. They're ready for this. They're going to be great."

That night, the parties raged on in the city, but the four women were snuggled up comfortably in bed. Two silver medals hung from the banister in their room.

Santana pulled Quinn closer to her. "You're amazing," she whispered.

"I'm glad you two were here today," Quinn answered.

"Nowhere we'd rather be."


	211. House Points

**House Points**

Santana loosened her tie as she trudged up the stairs, fresh in from Quidditch practice. She nearly had to duck as a book came whizzing down the stairs past her head. She bent to pick it up, and frowned. Ancient Runes? Climbing higher, she heard raised voices and cruel laughter. "OI!" she shouted, picking up speed.

"What do you want, Lopez?" a Hufflepuff named Gruidner asked.

"Leave Fabray alone," she said in a low, firm voice.

The two Gryffindors that were holding the blonde's bag just out of reach sneered at her.

"We're not afraid of Bellatrix Black's bastard kid," one spat.

Quick as lightning, Santana drew her wand and had him flat on the floor. "You really should be," she growled. She walked over and picked up Quinn's bag. Handing it to her, she said, "Here. Go on."

"Thanks," Quinn stammered.

"You let me know if they bother you again."

"You're not to use magic in the halls," Gruidner said. With a smile, he added, "Ten points from Slytherin."

"You sure about that?" another voice said. Noah Puckerman strolled up and pushed Gruidner against the wall. "Twenty points to Slytherin, for standing up for another student," he said, glowering at the bullies. "Ten points from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor."

"That's your own house!" one of the Gryffindors protested.

"And? Get out of here."

They scattered. Santana smiled at Puck.

"Cheers."


	212. Harry Potter World

**Harry Potter World**

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Not yet."

"Come on, guys!" Quinn whined. "I've been blindfolded all day! You wouldn't even let me look when we left the hotel this morning."

"We're almost there," Rachel said, squeezing her hand.

"Yeah, and trust us, it'll be worth it," Santana said. She winked at Rachel in the rearview mirror and pulled into the Universal Studios parking lot.

In the last month, Quinn had been legally emancipated from her sacks of crap parents. She'd moved in with Rachel, but her girlfriends could tell she was still hurting. Thus, with the help of Hiram, Leroy, Maribel and Cristobal, they'd planned a little getaway for their blonde bookworm.

"Okay," Santana said, "Rachel's going to help you out of the car." She got out and passed the keys to the Disney valet, shuddering to think how much her dad had shelled out for the three day valet pass.

"Ready?" Rachel asked once they were on the sidewalk.

"Yes!" Quinn said, laughing.

"Okay, a few steps forward," Santana said, moving her so she could see the Wizarding World sign. "Right, blondie, here we are."

There was silence for a moment as Quinn's eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

"Three…two…one…" Rachel muttered.

Quinn shrieked like a five year old and grabbed her girlfriends into a hug. She turned to look at the sign again and started bouncing up and down. "Oh my god, no! Really!" she asked excitedly.

"Really," Santana said as Rachel just shook her head and led the way into the park.

* * *

"Please, S?" Quinn begged.

"Q…" Santana whined.

"Santana, you're violating one of the rules of Operation Spoil Quinn," Rachel said, grinning and readying the camera on her phone.

Santana just smirked. "You just want video evidence of this madness."

"Exactly. Go on."

Santana took one look at the blonde's excited face and relented. "Right, Q. Grab your wand – it's time to get our duel on."

They went into one of the dueling rings while Rachel filmed.

"Wands at the ready!" one of the wizard refs called.

It took all of two minutes for Quinn to beat Santana's ass. She beamed and kissed the younger girl on the cheek as they went to meet Rachel.

"I didn't know it was like…legit. How am I supposed to remember all those spells?" Santana grumbled.

Rachel snorted. "No idea. But let's go get some food at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm starving, and I'm sure dueling worked up your appetite."

Quinn linked arms with the two of them. "Guys?"

"Yeah, babe?" Santana asked.

"This is amazing. Thank you."

They simultaneously kissed her on opposite cheeks.

"You're very welcome, Quinn," Rachel said, happy to see her girlfriend happy.


	213. Kisses

**Kisses**

People who travel a lot have tiny things they do on the road—rituals. Some people cross themselves just before the plane takes off. Some people send good morning texts to their spouses. Some people can't go to sleep in a hotel without seven pillows surrounding them and a stiff drink.

For Santana, it was kisses—the chocolate variety. Her trips usually took her away from home for three to ten days. For each day, she had three Hershey's Kisses packed in her backpack. She had one in the morning (because Quinn always woke them up with a kiss), one at lunch (because Rachel always kissed her goodbye after they met for lunch), and one after dinner (because she slept facing Brittany, who always sneaked in one last kiss goodnight). This was her longest trip yet, and she'd already gone through half a bag of them.

She popped one of the chocolates into her mouth and climbed into bed. With a sigh, she turned out the light, turned the TV to the jazz station, and sent off a quick text.

_Miss you three. I'll be home soon. Love you! Xo, S._


	214. Pirates

**Pirates**

The sails unfurled, displaying the pirate family's flag. A scarlet blade set across the Union Jack. The wind carried them further from shore, and the man at the helm called down to one of the sailors.

"Santana!"

"Aye, Captain?"

"How's our guest fairing?"

She smirked, walking calmly up the steps. "I'm sure she's cursing all of the gods about her current situation, but all things considered I think she's doing quite well."

"You're in charge of her," he grunted. "I want to ransom her, and I don't want her harmed."

"Aye, Captain."

"And Santana?"

"Captain?"

"You may call me 'Father' when the men aren't around," he said, smiling behind the impressive beard.

"Aye, Father." She nodded respectfully and descended the other set of stairs. Opening the hatch, she walked below deck and back to her personal chambers. She laughed when she heard the creative swearing coming from behind the door. "You know, for a lady of the court, you're damn good at that. Put some of my father's men to shame," Santana told the girl, coming into the room.

"Your father's men are vile!" she spat.

"Yes, well…they're pirates."

"Don't you mean 'we're pirates'? You seem to be very familiar with everyone on this ship."

"Yes, well…. I'm not in the family business officially. They don't let women sail ships, you see?" She gently took the bindings from the young noble woman's hand.

She immediately tried to hit her.

Santana caught her hand and shook her head. "None of that. I'm here to keep you safe until we take you back to your parents."

The blonde gave her a suspicious look. "What do you mean?"

"My father plans to ransom you. I'm sure for more than you're worth—"

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"Means I don't get the fuss with you posh twats. You're just there to look. Look nice, look smart, look like you're doing your family some good."

"At least our families do some good for the world." She flinched when Santana let out a cackle. "What?"

"Listen, princess…. For however much money your dear daddy gives to whatever flavor of the month disease ridden orphan, he's killed at least three people."

"He never—"

"Not directly. But keep looking down the line of those who work for him. You'll get to someone doing backbreaking work for less than a tuppence. And if you think your little world is always on the righteous path?" She snorted. "I won't take that dream from you. Like I said, it's not like you'll have to know anything about it."

"Are you here just to insult me and my house?"

"I told you. I'm here to keep you safe. Getting to insult you is just a perk. Now," she said, sitting next to the girl. "What shall I call you?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"You and I will be sharing small quarters for…well, quite a while. I need to know your name. I need to know who to call out for if you go mysteriously missing on the ship," she said, giving her a meaningful look.

For the first time, the blonde lost her look of utter defiance and looked a bit fearful. "Will…will anything happen to me?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. And I have a lot to say about it. Your name, lass?"

"Quinn."


	215. Dreams Come True

**Dreams Come True**

Santana glanced over to the passenger seat and tried not to smile. Marley really was adorable. "You okay, M?"

"Fine," the girl said, fiddling with the air vents.

"You want to know where we're going, don't you?"

"Yes!" Marley whined.

Santana laughed. She was impressed that the younger girl had made it this long. They'd packed and had breakfast with Marley's mom before heading out. She'd expected Marley to start asking as soon as they were on the road.

"It's a surprise."

"Santana! That's not fair."

Santana just started whistling.

Marley sat back with a huff, but then paused. She listened carefully to what Santana was whistling. No…she had to have that wrong. Hundreds of songs probably had that tune.

"You okay with boy bands?" Santana asked.

"Oh yeah."

She fiddled with the iPod for a second, and NSYNC's a capella harmonies came through the speakers a second later.

_Dreams come true._

_Dreams come true._

_Dreams come true._

_They do…when you…._

_When you wish upon a star,_

_Makes no difference who you are._

_Anything your heart desires _

_Will come to you._

Marley gasped and turned to Santana, not daring to believe it.

Santana sniggered.

"WE'RE GOING TO DISNEY WORLD?"

"Yep. I may have begged your mom for info on where you'd never been. Buckle up, M – we've got a mouse to meet."

* * *

"Is there someone in particular you're looking for?" Santana asked as they passed Sleeping Beauty's castle for the third time.

Marley stopped and pouted at her. "I want to meet Peter Pan. He's awesome. He has a following on Tumblr."

"…seriously?"

"Yeah! Come on!"

* * *

"If I have to eat one more thing that's Mickey shaped…" Santana said, digging into her pancakes.

"They're festive," Marley said, grinning.

"They're goofy."

"No, Mickey, not Goofy."

Santana gave her a Look.

Marley just laughed.

* * *

The fireworks over the castle were either extra spectacular, or the week may have just been that good. Santana hugged Marley close and kissed the side of her head. "You have fun, M?"

"Hell yeah," Marley said, sounding awestruck.

"Epic."


	216. Family Time

**Family Time**

"It's the dad."

"No way. The cop guy was way too suspicious."

"Shemar Moore has it in for that guy. It's never the guy he doesn't like. It's like they think it gives his character depth if he apologizes every episode…."

"JJ was acting all worried around the brunette. Maybe they're covering for the kid!"

Santana and Quinn both shot a glance at their 12-year-old daughter.

"Something we should be worried about, Celeste?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, you don't have bodies hidden under your floorboards, do you?" Santana added.

Celeste rolled her eyes. "No, moms! I'm just trying to think like a profiler. Plus, there's still twenty minutes left. That's enough for at least one more plot twist. Two if it's a cliffhanger."

When Celeste had started 7th grade, she'd come home begging them to let her watch Criminal Minds like the rest of her friends. After two solid months of whining, they'd given in under the stipulation that she couldn't watch it alone. One or both of them had to be there to censor or turn it off if she got scared. She'd wrangled both of them during one of the many Saturday all day marathons, and two episodes in the whole family was hooked. It was now clogging their TiVo and they would watch an episode each night after dinner.

"Aw yeah, a Hotchalance!" the girl said, as the lead detective verbally handed some creep his ass.

Santana just smiled. She loved the show, but most of the fun came from watching her daughter. It wasn't just mindless entertainment for her – the girl really did try to think like a detective. And horrifyingly enough, she was right a lot of the time.

* * *

"Boom! I was right!"

"They were covering up for the kid?"

"Okay, she's getting way to good at this…."


	217. Forts

**Forts**

The mattress was old and squishy and probably the worst thing on the planet for both of their backs, but neither of them cared.

"Happy—oomph! Happy anniversary," Quinn said, sliding into the pillow fort she'd made earlier that day.  
Rachel beamed back at her. "You too, Quinn. I can't believe you remembered."

"Thought you'd got me, didn't you?" Quinn asked with a smirk. She poured them each a glass of wine and snuggled next to Rachel. "Our official first date may have been Breadstix the summer before junior year of college…but blanket forts were our thing way back when."

They reclined against the couch to watch the movie.


	218. From Sea to Shining Sea

**From Sea to Shining Sea**

Quinn tried not to sigh as she flung herself down on the bed. It was July 4th, and she was stuck in New Haven. For some odd reason, summer classes had sounded like a good idea at the end of the previous semester. And they had been good, until she'd found out that she'd be missing out on vacation with Santana and her family.

"This sucks," she pouted.

Her phone buzzed. It was a picture of Santana in front of the Grand Canyon. The caption read, _Oh beautiful, for spacious skies…._

Quinn smiled. She was about to put the phone down and get started on her homework when it buzzed again. This time, it was a Vine video, showing Santana waving in front of, and then running through, a corn maze. _For amber waves of grain…._

Then she was in front of the sign on the top of Pike's Peak. _For purple mountain majesties…._

Her at a wine tasting in Napa ("Lucky bitch," Quinn thought). _Above the fruited plane…._

In front of Mount Rushmore. _America, America, God shed his grace on thee…._

At the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia. _And crown thy good with brotherhood…._

A picture of their favorite beach in LA. _From sea…._

Another beach. _To shining sea._

Quinn sat straight up, looking at the last picture. "Wait…. That one's here!"

There was a knock at her door, and she raced over to answer it.

"Took you long enough!" Santana said with a grin.

Quinn squeaked happily as her girlfriend swept her into a huge hug. "You're here!"

"Couldn't let you celebrate our nation's independence all buy yourself. Mostly because you have to drink on this holiday, and drinking alone is just sad."

"I have to, huh?" Quinn asked, kicking the door closed behind them.

"Mmmhmmm…not to is just un-American."

"Well, you've got an hour and a half to relieve all of my pent up sexual frustration before the bars open," the blonde said, grinning.

"I better get to work, then."


	219. Shipping Wars

**Shipping Wars**

Santana liked the show. It was full of action, gratuitous violence and sex, and enough smart writing to make the first three things work perfectly together. But really, she was in this just to watch her girlfriends fight over the characters they wanted to get together.

"What?" Quinn squeaked.

"When she conquers the Seven Kingdoms, it's only logical that she would have a harem," Rachel explained. "Dany's perfect. Everyone loves her. She's too merciful to banish them all just for shacking up with the men, so she'll totally just claim them all. Margaery at least."

"NO! Margaery belongs to Sansa!"

"Are we watching the same show?" Santana wondered aloud.


	220. Shape of My Heart

**Shape of My Heart**

Rachel walked through the halls, knowing something was not right. Something was all kinds of wrong, and it had to do with her secret girlfriends. She wasn't sure how she knew that it was Quinn and Santana, but she knew. Maybe it was that the masses looked subdued and terrified, rather than just skittish as when Puck or Azimio were on a rampage. She really didn't want to know what had set the pair off.

With a sigh, and the knowledge that it was going to be one hell of a long day, she popped into the bathroom to grab some tissue. She stopped short, seeing a convocation of her fellow glee members.

Tina was in hysterics, with Mercedes, Sugar, Kurt and Brittany all trying to comfort her.

"What on earth happened?" she asked, rushing over.

"Qu-Quinn…I…just…" That was the only sensible thing they got out of her.

Brittany grabbed Rachel by the arm and led her out of the bathroom. "You have to talk to them."

"Why can't you?"

"They won't listen to me. They might not be mean like they are with the rest of the school, but they won't listen. I don't know what's wrong with them."

Rachel's heart started hammering in her chest. It wasn't that they'd gone back to how they were sophomore year – she spoke to them in the halls all the time, even if they only sometimes spoke back. But no one other than Brittany knew about their relationship. "Okay. I'll find them."

Brittany nodded and hugged her.

Dreading whatever was about to take place, Rachel marched off the hall with purpose. She found Santana and Quinn near the Cheerios locker room and virtually alone. "Santana, Quinn—"

"Not now," Quinn snapped.

"Yes, now," Rachel said. A year ago, the look the two of them were giving her would have sent her running. "You're upset today, but you can't keep taking it out on people. What's wrong?"

"None of your damn business," Santana said.

"You may think, for whatever reason, that keeping the school under your thumb is okay. Whatever, I won't try to battle years of Sylvester's crazy conditioning…but it is not okay to reduce Tina to tears."

"Not hard," Santana sneered.

"Enough!" Rachel snapped. "Guys, that's not alright. She could barely breathe she was so upset."

"We are not in the mood for this, Treasure Trail," Quinn all but yelled.

Now they had an audience. Rachel refused to back down, though. "Fine. But you owe Tina an apology."

"Since when does the dwarf order you around?" someone called.

Oh god, it was Azimio. Rachel did her best not to recoil under Santana's furious stare. "Don't give me that look," Rachel growled under her breath.

"I'll look at you however I want, Berry!" Santana said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Rachel's resolve was weakening. She was shaking out of anger and humiliation. Everyone knew Quinn and Santana were dating – she was their dirty little secret. Whatever, she'd agreed to it. But this….

"Rachel," a soft voice said behind her. Kurt put a hand on her arm and gently pulled her away.

Rachel deflated and nodded at him.

They turned to leave…and were hit with an icy blue mess.

"Boom! Blueberry!" Rick the Stick said, high fiving Azimio when he reached him.

Rachel wiped it out of her eyes and turned back to Quinn and Santana. Nothing. She felt a furious burning behind her eyes, but she shut them again, and felt herself calm. "Fine," she whispered. "Come on, Kurt."

* * *

Her dads weren't home, which was good. They'd want to go back up to the school and raise hell. She trudged to the hall bathroom and stripped down. Of course she'd picked that day to wear her new sundress. She tossed it in the tub with some of her dad's miracle stain remover that he could only get overseas. With a weary sigh, she trudged up to her room to shower and change.

As the hot water stung her skin, she thought it over. She wasn't particularly sad or angry anymore. And in the grand scheme of things, she'd had far more humiliating experiences with the dreaded slushie facials, so it wasn't embarrassment. It was resignation at this point. They could talk all they wanted about how they loved her and were going to protect her, but in the end, it was all talk. She had to protect herself. She wouldn't out their relationship, she wasn't going to be cruel. But she was going to end it tomorrow.

The doorbell rang.

Rachel ignored it. Kurt had headed straight to the spa, so it wasn't him. She put her earbuds in and hopped on her elliptical, noting that it was sort of a dumb idea, since she'd already showered. Still, she chose her cross training program and started furiously pumping her legs.

She was so wrapped up in her workout that she didn't hear the door open. She nearly fell off the machine when someone pulled her earphones out.

"Easy, Rach," Quinn said, steadying her.

"Oh, you do remember my name?" she asked bitterly, climbing down.

"Rachel, we—" Santana started.

"I know the drill. You didn't mean it. You love me. You'll never call me those things again. You were just having a bad day. Old habits die hard…." Rachel listed all of their normal excuses as calmly as she ordered her favorite vegan dish at Breadstix.

The other two just looked at each other.

"I'm done. You can let yourselves out," Rachel said, opening her laptop.

"Rachel—"

"No. I'm done being your secret. It wouldn't be as bad if you at least acted like I was your friend, but I'm still just Treasure Trail to you. Goodbye." She didn't take her eyes off the screen as both of them kissed her head and left silently. When she heard the front door shut, she finally allowed herself to cry.

* * *

She really didn't want to go to glee. She'd been dodging Quinn and Santana all day, and god only knew what was about to go down. She took her seat in between Kurt and Mercedes, smiling slightly at the both of them.

"Hey guys!" Mr. Schuester said, strolling into the room. "Ready to get started? Wait, where are Quinn and Santana?"

"I saw them on the way here," Finn said. "They said they'd be here in a sec."

"Okay. In that case—"

"Sorry we're late, Mr. Schue," Santana said. She and Quinn walked in, followed by at least thirty people all holding two fire and ice roses. The choir room was packed.

"Uh…it's fine. What's all this?" he asked, a small smile crossing his face.

"We have a song prepared," Quinn said.

"Okay!" he said. "Go right ahead."

The piano started, and the first person walked over and handed Rachel their flowers.

_Baby, please try to forgive me_

_Stay here don't put out the glow_

_Hold me now don't bother if every minute it makes me weaker_

_You can save me from the man that I've become, oh yeah_

_Lookin' back on the things I've done_

_I was tryin' to be someone_

_I played my part, kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Literally everyone's mouths were open. Puck, secretly a boy band fan, was grooving in the back as his ex and baby mama continued to serenade his hot Jewish princess. He also wasn't surprised that Santana scored AJ's verse.

_Sadness is beautiful loneliness that's tragical_

_So help me I can't win this war, oh no_

_Touch me now don't bother if every second it makes me weaker_

_You can save me from the man I've become_

_Lookin' back on the things I've done_

_I was tryin' to be someone_

_I played my part, kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Rachel was now basically drowning in roses. Kurt privately wondered where the hell they'd gotten that many of that specific flower in such short notice.

_I'm here with my confession_

_Got nothing to hide no more_

_I don't know where to start_

_But to show you the shape of my heart_

_I'm lookin' back on things I've done_

_I never wanna play the same old part_

_I'll keep you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

_Show you the shape of my heart_

Rachel sat flabbergasted under her mountain of roses as the rest of the club stood and gave Santana and Quinn a standing ovation. She finally closed her mouth as the pair's accomplices filed out of the room.

"In case that needs further explanation," Quinn began. "We realize we've been absolutely awful, again, to you Rachel. And we are sorry this time."

"We were upset yesterday because our parents found out about us," Santana explained. "We shouldn't have taken it on you. Or you, T. Sorry about that."

"Apology accepted," Tina said graciously.

"And we should have stood up for you and Kurt when Rick the Prick slushied you. We know we have a lot to make up for, and a lot to prove, but we promise we're going to. Even if you still want to break up with us," Quinn said quietly. "We'll work until we're worth taking back."

Everyone turned and looked at Rachel.

She blushed. "I'll…think about it."

Both girls smiled at her, and took their seats.

"I really don't know how to follow that," Schue said.

"You can't," Artie deadpanned, shaking his head. "Day off?"

Everyone agreed, taking advantage of the fact that Rachel was too distracted to disagree.

"Okay. See you all tomorrow then."

"Can we help you carry those to your car?" Santana asked as the rest of the Gleeks departed.

Rachel smiled slightly. "Okay."

Between the three of them, they still had to make three trips for all the flowers. Rachel's car looked like the Lima Botanical Gardens. She started the car and rolled down the window. "This isn't a yes," she told them. "Today was beautiful…but it's not just about the recognition."

"We know," Quinn assured her. "Don't worry. We meant what we said."

"We'll see you tomorrow, Rae," Santana said, blowing her a kiss.

With a smile, Rachel nodded and drove off.


	221. The Games We Play

**The Games We Play**

Quinn woke up in a mood. She smiled, and pulled Santana closer as the younger girl stirred. "I want to play our game today," she whispered. She felt her girlfriend smile into her shoulder.

"Fine with me. You know I'm always up for it. Shall we wake our other half?"

"Already awake," came a sleepy response from the other side of the bed. Brittany's head raised off the pillow slightly. "Did you say something about our game?"

"Yep. Rach, you awake?"

There was a single grunt. Santana laughed. Rachel was always the last out of bed. Once she was up, she was UP, but it always took her a while.

"Come on, Rae," Brittany said. "Game day."

That woke her up. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," Quinn said, smirking.

The rules were simple. From the time the first bell rang, to the time they got home, it was a no holds barred flirting explosion. It had, of course, been…amplified over the course of their relationship. What started out as verbal flirting was now "Let's see just how far we can go with one another before one of us breaks and/or gets expelled."

And they all knew each other pretty damn well, so it could go pretty damn far.

It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Quinn was surprised. She really thought she had Santana today. She was laying it on thick, but apparently whatever the hell S or B was doing to Rachel was worse. She was walking to lunch when she was pulled, none to gently, into the bathroom. She just caught a glimpse of Brittany leaning against the wall, smirking, before Rachel tackled her.

Rachel pulled her into a fierce kiss for a long minute. Okay, a few minutes. "Text Santana," she said, pulling away. "We're going home. NOW."

"'kay," Quinn squeaked. She pulled out her phone and sent "Code RED- bathroom across from choir room" to Santana.

_Holy fuck, already? Be there in a minute –S_

It was more like fifteen seconds before Santana came rushing through the door to find two of her girlfriends making out, and the other watching. "Britts?"

Brittany shrugged. "My milkshake brings all the girls to the yard."

Santana looked from Rachel and Quinn (who would probably need a hose to separate them at this point) back to Brittany. "Teach me your ways."

Brittany smiled brightly. "Come on, you three. Let's take this somewhere Jew Fro won't be able to set up cameras."


	222. Skype

**Skype**

"What are you up to?"

"Making a cake for Cass's birthday," Quinn said.

"Did you remember to—"

"Set the oven 100 degrees lower? Yes," the blonde said, rolling her eyes at their supremely defective kitchen appliance.

Santana snickered and adjusted her computer screen. "I'll probably miss the party, but I'll be there before he goes to bed. I hope."

"Don't worry, San. He knows the snow up there is bullying the airplanes."

"And the cars, and the buildings, and everyone inside all of them. Where is the little monster?"

"At Rachel and Jesse's house," Quinn said. "They came by and godson-napped him so I could do some last minute party stuff."

"No! They're going to get him on another vegan kick! Took me a month to get him to eat bacon again last time…."

"I feel like this is some sort of cosmic justice for all those times you ate bacon when you two lived together in college," Quinn said, laughing.

"Whatever. I'll give them cosmic justice when I take baby St. James to get his first tattoo on his 18th birthday."

"Rachel will kill you," Quinn said seriously. "I will not be able to save you."

"I can take her," Santana said, grinning.

Quinn just shook her head. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. I'll be home tomorrow. Goodnight, love."

"Night, S. I love you."


	223. Munchkin

**Munchkin**

Santana loved this game. She loved spending time with her family. But damned if she didn't loathe when the two came together. She glowered at her cards, trying to figure out a way to make it to the next round. She was at Level 8, so there was probably not a chance in hell that anyone would help her.

The game really showed how alike to them their children were. Ramsay was like Quinn, a stickler for the rules. He literally kept the game rules open next to him, even though they'd played a hundred times by that point. Cass was like Brittany, completely guessing for most of the game, but would figure it out suddenly and come from behind and win in a blaze of glory. Tara was Rachel in miniature in everything, including absolutely sucking at RP games. And Jenny….

Santana glared playfully at their youngest daughter and her biggest threat currently. The girl smiled sweetly back. "Fine. Here we go. That should do it." She put down a potion that brought her to exactly one point above the monster she was fighting.

"Mmm…" Jenny said, shaking her head. "Wandering Monster," she said, laying down two more monsters.

"And a curse," Rachel said. She might not be about to win, but hell if she was going to let Santana win without a fight.

"Not that damned chicken again!" Santana yelped.

Ramsay sniggered.

"Help," Santana whined at him, but he just shook his head. She threw down her cards so they could loot her now that she was "dead". "Fine. You're all grounded."

The rest of them just laughed.


	224. Little Things

**Little Things**

Rachel giggled as Quinn left a kiss on her lips.

Quinn smiled. She'd gotten back home from a month-long business trip that evening, and had just spent the past few minutes leaving soft kisses all over her girlfriend's body. "And I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth," she sang softly. "But if I do, then it's true, oh it's you they add up to. I'm in love with you, and all these little things."

"And you'll never love yourself as much as I love you," Rachel sang back, kissing her.

"You'll never treat yourself right, darling, though I want you to."

"If I let you know I'm here for you."

"Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you," Quinn nearly whispered, kissing her neck. This was familiar – it was them. Their song, their apartment, their city, their love….

"I'll just let these little things slip out of my mouth."

"Cause it's true, oh it's you, yeah it's you they add up to."

"And I'm in love with you, and all these little things."

Quinn captured Rachel's lips in a kiss again. There were no more words that evening.


	225. Long Way Home

**Long Way Home**

The plane was quiet. The few passengers were all sleeping. All except two. The blonde put an arm around the crying brunette and pulled her close.

"Shh…it's okay. I'm here."

"I don't know if I can do this, Quinn."

"It's going to be okay, San," Quinn said, kissing her forehead. "Whatever you can't do, I will, okay? I'm here, with you, and that's how this works. Try to get some sleep."

Santana rested her head against Quinn's shoulder as the plane carried them back to Ohio.


	226. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

"What is wrong with you?" Santana asked, genuinely concerned as she caught her girlfriend by the arms. Quinn had been spinning out for the past few days, and she was worried they were going to see the pink hair return…. "Hey, talk to me. What is it?"

"Seriously, Santana?" Quinn snapped.

"Yes," Santana said, patiently. "What's wrong? Did I do something, or do I need to kill someone for doing something?"

"Saturday."

Santana racked her brain for what the hell she could've done on Saturday that had Quinn in a Fab-cray rage. "Baby, I told you – I couldn't hang out that night because—"

"You had plans. What you didn't tell me was that you were blowing me off for Puckerman."

"Wait…what?"

"I saw the two of you getting cozy at Breadstix when I went by to pick up dinner."

Santana let out a relieved laugh, which just made Quinn madder. "Baby, stop. There's nothing going on with me and Puck. Can I explain?" she asked, kissing her nose.

Quinn huffed, but nodded.

"You know how my dad's building that extension to our house, right?"

"Yeah."

"Puck's been helping him. And the other day he came over to help assemble some furniture. We went out to eat after we were done because we were starving. As for being cozy? Just no. I may vomit."

Quinn's face softened slightly. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Can you stop taking out your ire on the masses?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "I suppose."

"Fabulous." Santana wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss. "Want to ditch for the rest of the day? See if we can't work any residual annoyance out of you?" she asked, smirking.

Quinn smiled finally. "Lead the way, Lopez."


	227. Invasion

**Invasion**

Quinn stalked down the hall, heels clicking furiously as she made her way through the building. She held up her ID at various checkpoints, and was let through doors that civilians didn't even know existed. When she finally reached the lab, she found Brittany waiting for her.

"They want me to talk to it," her wife said, fidgeting with her lab coat.

Quinn sighed. Brittany was world renowned for her gift of languages. The math formula she'd developed in her years at MIT allowed for the quick processing and retention of languages. She spoke almost every language in the world fluently, and had been in the middle of a month long study of one of her last ones when this…thing…had surfaced. Of course they wanted her to talk to it.

"President Evans," Quinn said, nodding at the Head of State. "King William. How are you both?" She'd met both of the leaders before, and behind closed doors they were actually on first name terms. However, there was a small assortment of other powers here, and she knew better than to look too chummy with Sam and Willy.

"We've been better," the President admitted. "There's more and more media circulation about the suspected alien landing, Agent Fabray. We need Dr. Fabray to talk to it, and find out what's happening before any more leaks get out."

"Where's General Lopez?" the king of England asked. "Shouldn't she be here too?"

"Speak of the devil," Santana said, strolling in. "Damn good thing my plane hadn't taken off yet." She stood between her wives and looked through the glass. The thing wasn't like in the movies. It wasn't spindly, it didn't have a weird shaped head or millions of eyes. It was oddly…spherical, and shiny. Like if marbles came alive and grew stumpy apendages to walk on. "Britt…are you okay with this?"

"I think I have the basics down," Brittany said nervously. "I've been listening for five days straight."

"What if there's something we're not thinking of, sir?" Quinn asked the president. "What if direct communication hurts her in some way? Or there's a different brain process that sound alone can't replicate?"

There was silence for a while as the assembled party watched the thing.

"Call Rachel," Santana said quietly.

"Huh?" Quinn asked.

"Before you do this – because I can tell by all of your faces that we are going to do this – call Rachel and let her know."

"Should we be revealing this to civilians?" one of the random high ups asked. The look he got from the rest of them made him shrink back.

"We talk in code," Quinn said. "And she's right. If anything…happens, Rachel needs to be aware."

"I'll do it," Brittany said.

As soon as she'd stepped out, Santana turned to Quinn. "Are we really going to let her do this? There are other people who have mastered Britt's formula. Someone else could talk to it."

Quinn shook her head sadly. "No one learns as fast as she does. You know that. Except kids, and come on…who's going to let their kid do this?"

Brittany came back in and nodded. "Let's do it."

* * *

Microphones, headsets, speakers…. Santana was praying harder than she'd ever prayed in her life, and Quinn was desperately wishing she hadn't watched Children of Earth last month with their daughters.

Brittany had requested to be in a booth, so they couldn't hear exactly what noises she was making. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked like she was sweating a bit. Otherwise, she looked fine, though.

Quinn had almost relaxed when she saw a look of horror cross her wife's face. "What's happening?"

"Do we need to get her out of there?" Santana asked one of the technicians.

"I don't know," he said.

It didn't matter. Brittany tore her headset off and came running out just a minute later. "They're going to invade!"


	228. The Edge

_**Trigger warning: suicide**_

"Today's the big day!" Shelby said, squeezing Rachel's shoulders. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's see your show face."

Rachel smiled brightly in the mirror. It dimmed to a genuine smile when Shelby beamed back.

"That's my girl."

"Rachel?" Hiram called, knocking on her door. "Honey, it's time for school." He peeked his head inside the room. "Almost ready?"

"I'm ready," Rachel said, grabbing her bag.

"Who were you talking to just now?" he asked, looking around the room. It was empty besides his daughter.

"Just giving myself a pep talk," Rachel said calmly.

* * *

It was a day like any other. Rachel's smile never left her face, even as the insults and slushies came flying. What did she care? It was her big day, and after this afternoon, none of them would be able to touch her. All in all, it had been a pretty low key day. Only two slushie attacks, and no one was particularly vicious with the name calling. They were all probably tired from last week's bullying, she figured. It must have taken a lot out of them. She hoped they were staying properly hydrated….

The other glee members ignored her in the halls, which was just as well. She wouldn't want them to get caught in the line of fire.

She stayed in the bathroom at lunch, talking to Shelby again. Some freshmen came in and looked at her funny, but she ignored them and finished up her history assignment.

Finally, the moment came. She was a little late to glee, and when she walked in, everything stopped.

"I apologize for my tardiness," she said, "but I have an announcement."

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester said softly. He wasn't looking at her, but at the gun in her hand.

"It's alright, Mr. Schue," she assures him, noticing what he's focused on. "It's not for any of you. I would never hurt you guys."

"Rachel," Kurt says, standing up.

"Please sit down, Kurt."

Her on again, off again friend sat without another word.

Quiet terror gripped the group as she began to speak again. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I thought about alternative plan, but I felt I owed it to you to say goodbye in person. So…goodbye."

"NO!" Quinn screamed as the shot rang out.

Puck made it to her first, but even through his terror and tears he realized there was nothing he could do.

Rachel was gone.


	229. Dance with the Devil

**Dance with the Devil**

Quinn huddled in the attic, trying not to make a sound. She knew they'd find her, but hopefully Santana got there first. She tried not to panic. If she panicked, she'd cry, and if she cried, she'd be found. So she clung to her phone, and crouched down behind a few boxes.

The phone buzzed slightly.

_On our way. Don't move. We love you – we'll be there soon. Xo, R._

Quinn calmed a bit, even as she heard her father storming around the house looking for her. She could hear the other people from their church downstairs. An "exorcism" – to get the "devil's gay" out. She shivered.

* * *

Santana drove like a bat out of hell behind the police cars. Brittany was in the backseat, on the phone with the rest of the parents, and Rachel was white-knuckling her phone as they sped towards the Fabray house.

"What did she say? Did she text back?" Santana asked.

"No, but she's probably trying to be quiet."

Santana let out an impressive array of swear words under her breath as the line of cars turned into the subdivision. They pulled up to the house just as Finn and Puck did. Santana, even in all her rage and fear, wasn't idiot enough to try and outrun Finn to the door.

"Ma'am, you have to stay here," one of the officers said, as the rest of them chased the two boys.

"Hurry up, Finn!" she called, knowing there was no way the officer was going to let her go. She turned back to Rachel and Brittany, who were also being restrained. "They'll get her. It's going to be okay."

* * *

Quinn had never been so frightened in her life. She couldn't hear anything over the pounding in her ears. She held her breath as the attic light came on.

"Q? Where you at, Baby Mama?"

"Puck?" she squeaked, crying with relief.

The boxes she'd used to make her tiny hideout were moved, and Finn and Puck appeared, looking down at her.

"It's alright, Quinn," Finn said gently, helping her up.

She sobbed into his chest for a while and then just stood, shivering and relieved. "Thank you," she whispered in a hoarse voice. "Are the girls down there too?"

"Being forcibly restrained by Lima's finest," Puck said with a grin.

Quinn turned to go downstairs, but Puck stopped her.

"Uh…one second, okay? Stay up here with Finn." He ran back downstairs, trying not to be sick when he passed through the living room. They'd all been on high alert for about a week because of this shit. Quinn had found the plans for the exorcism on Russell's computer, as well as correspondence with the "sexual reparative therapist". Looking around the room at all of the equipment, he was just glad they'd made it in time.

Russell was in handcuffs, as was the "therapist". The man was screaming about his first amendment rights.

"You have the freedom to practice your religion," Puck said, ignoring how everyone turned to him and concentrating on the man. "But you don't have the freedom to abuse your child in the name of your religion." He looked around again and shuddered. "How could you do this? She's your kid! This quack's already under investigation for two deaths!"

"Son, you and your friend can't be here," one of the officers said gently.

"We came to get Quinn," he said. "We found her, but I don't want her to see all this. She nearly had a panic attack as it is. Can we take her out through the kitchen?"

"Sure, son. But we're going to have an officer go with you. And she can't leave just yet."

"Thanks," Puck said. His phone rang and he cringed. "Hey San—Santana! Yes, no! She's fine. I am! Jesus, woman!"

The officer following him back up to the attic was obviously trying not to laugh.

"Yo, Q, we're ready to roll," Puck said.

She looked apprehensively at the policeman.

"No worries, young lady," he said. "Your friends are going to take you outside, and we have a few questions for you. After that, you're free to go."

"Okay," Quinn said. "Thanks."

By the time they got outside, the Berry, Lopez and Pierce parents had arrived as well. Rachel was the first to reach Quinn, running faster than anyone knew she could.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," she whispered into Quinn's shoulder.

The group stayed like that for a long time, and the police didn't interrupt the six-way hug. It was only when Quinn pulled back a little that everyone let go.

"I want to go," she said.

"Under the circumstances," said a voice behind them. It was the police captain. "I think we can hold our questions until the morning. Where will you be staying?"

"Our house," Leroy Berry answered.

"Fine. Go on, take her home."

"Let's go, Q," Brittany said, taking her hand.


	230. Gelphie

**Gelphie**

Rachel smirked and held up the well-loved copy of Wicked. "Why didn't you tell me you were a closet Wicked fan?"

Santana stared, with a deer in the headlights expression. "Er…."

"I wondered why you were so excited that I was cast as Elphie," she said, laughing and snuggling next to her girlfriend.

"Besides the fact that, hello, you're in Wicked. But yeah…I'm in it for Gelphie?."

"Gelphie?" Rachel asked. "What's that?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah."

"Glinda-Elphie. I ship it."

"What? They're best friends!"

"And clearly in love with each other."

"…I can't talk to you right now…"

Santana snickered. Rachel was adorable when she'd had her mind blown.


	231. BBQ

**BBQ**

Finn pouted as he jumped into the pool. He swam over to where Santana and Mike were chicken fighting with Rachel and Dave.

"What's up, Finndestructible?" Santana asked.

"Your girlfriend kicked me off the grill," he said, dodging a shot from Puck's water gun.

Santana grinned and glanced over to where Quinn was flipping burgers. "Did she have the 'No more lighter fluid' talk with you again?"

"I knew what I was doing!" Finn assured them as the other four laughed.

"Like hell, Hudson," Quinn called. "I like my burgers well, but not burnt to a crisp."

Santana jumped down off Mike's shoulders and climbed out of the pool. Not bothering to dry off, she went over and hugged Quinn from behind. "We need to get you a 'kiss the cook' apron."

"You don't like the one I borrowed from Finn?" Quinn asked laughing and turning.

Santana rolled her eyes at the "Life's better when you have a big sausage" apron. "No."

Quinn gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Shoo. I need to finish cooking."


	232. Mail

**Mail**

Quinn trudged through the student union, drained from a full day of midterms and a five-hour shift in the cafeteria. She wandered through the mail center, finally stopping at her post box. Her eyes lit up when she spotted a package slip inside. Taking the slip to the counter, she tried to remember if she'd ordered anything lately.

"Oh, lucky day for you!" the girl working the mail room said. "Let's see…here we go. Package for Quinn Fabray, all the way from New York."

She smiled, taking the box. It was about the size of a microwave, but not that heavy. "Thanks," she said.

Her roommate had left for the week, thank god. She needed some alone time. She grabbed the scissors from her drawer and cut the box open.

There was a stuffed elephant, a gallon-sized bag of Rachel's famous oatmeal-Craisin-chocolate chip cookies, a bag of Santana's Super Brownies (cookie base, Rolos and peanut butter cups in the middle, brownie on top), seasons one and two of S Club Miami, and a homemade "Sexy Coupon" book for when her girlfriends came to visit. She grinned, rummaging in the box to make sure she hadn't missed anything. There were two letters taped to an aroma therapy candle she'd missed.

_Dear Quinn,_

_I hope you are doing well. I know how seriously you take your studies, and that this week is sure to be stressful for you. Thus, Santana and I have put together this Midterm Survival Kit. Please indulge in the snacks and get your cuddle on with Carmine the Elephant as a substitute for Santana and myself. We'll see you this weekend! Love, Rachel. _

Santana's letter was a lot more straightforward.

_Hey Q,_

_Rachel guessed you were probably getting your crazy on this week. So chillax. You've got this. Xo, S._

With a laugh, Quinn snagged a cookie a popped the first S Club dvd into her computer.


	233. Spring Sunrise

**Spring Sunrise**

It was the first day of spring. Brittany knew that because it was one of the countdowns she kept during the year, along with Christmas, Halloween, and her girlfriends' birthdays. She climbed out of bed, careful not to wake the other three, and tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen.

She poured herself a cup of milk and went out onto the deck. The sun was just rising as she sat on the bench swing. Closing her eyes, she hummed to herself for a while.

"Ducky? Whatcha doing?"

"Oh, hey Q," Brittany said, craning to see her blonde girlfriend. "Just relaxing out here. I love the first day of spring."

"I know you do," Quinn said, smiling. She'd never quite figured out why Brittany liked this day so much, other than the promise of no snow for a while, but she thought it was adorable. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

Quinn settled in, with Brittany's head in her lap, and watched the sunrise.


	234. Eyes on Us

**Eyes on Us**

Santana smirked as she watched her girlfriends dance. It was her favorite part of coming out to the clubs. Brittany and Rachel were phenomenal dancers, everyone knew that. But most people only got to see them do the "classical" stuff – ballet, tap, jazz. Here, under the strobe lights and pumping music, they absolutely let loose and were just as good at hip hop and freestyle as any of the others. She made her way to the edge of the floor, holding their drinks firmly, and just stood there, watching.

She wasn't the only one. There was a slight circle forming around her girls. Every once in a while, a guy would approach and try to dance with them, but most couldn't keep up. Rachel caught her eye after a moment and winked.

Santana just smiled back.

Brittany took Rachel's hand and pulled her off the dance floor when the song ended. They followed Santana back to a booth in the corner and sat.

"Looking good out there," the oldest woman said.

"Thanks," Rachel said. "We could totally feel your eyes on us."

"Baby girl, everyone's eyes were on you," Santana said, grinning.

"One more song, then I want to go home," Brittany told them.

"How come? It's only midnight."

"Yeah, B, you don't even seem tired. Don't you want to dance some more?"

"Oh, I'm not," she told them with a wink. "And I do. But we need a little more privacy for the dance I want to do."


	235. Slippers

**Slippers**

Rachel shuffled over to the door, ready to decapitate whoever was on the other side of it. Didn't they know she was sick? What kind of sadistic monster would drag her from her bed like this?

"Hey there, sunshine," Quinn chirped when Rachel opened the door. "Had to search half of New York, but I found you some vegan soup."

"Q-inn?" she mumbled, stuffy.

"Poor Rae Bear…you sound all congested. Go on, lie down. Nice slippers by the way."

Rachel looked down and her pink bunny rabbits stared back up. She shrugged, and shuffled back over to the couch to collapse again.

Quinn followed her over and kissed her on the forehead. "Feels like your fever's gone away," she said. "Have you been watching this all day?" she asked, pointing to where Rugrats reruns were on TV.

"Just the past hour," Rachel said. "Before that it was a Pete & Pete marathon, and I hate that th-ow."

"No music?"

"Head hurts doo bad for anything high pitched or with ba-th."

"I'm sorry baby. Hold on, I'll get you some soup."

"Did you walk all the way over here with dat?"

"Nope. Took a taxi. Why is there a spark plug on the counter?"

"Burt vith-ited last week. It was apparently the th-ubject of a year-th long debate between him and Kurt. They lost me at the part about the mimeth and the Jello."

"O..kay… Here we go," the blonde said, appearing again with soup.

"Talk to me. I'm th-arved for human interaction th-ince Kurt and Th-antana took off."

"I saw someone shoe get eaten by an escalator today."

Rachel smirked as she ate.

"Oh, and my paper is going to the conference. I get to do a video presentation."

"Das great, Q-inn!"

"Stop talking, sweetie, you sound like it's taking a lot out of you."

"I need th-omething do dake my mind off it."

"I could describe, in detail, all the different ways sand art with kindergarteners is a bad idea…."

"Plea-the do." Rachel set the half-eaten bowl of soup on the coffee table and snuggled under her blankets again.

Quinn wasn't even through the top ten before Rachel was asleep again.


	236. Spark

**Spark**

It started with a spark – a shared kiss that neither of them was expecting in the back of a taxi. And in that moment, the past hour, day, week, month, year came together for them, like Cinderella and her lost slipper. It was as if all the sand in the hourglass of their lives had been returned, giving them just one more chance – just a little while longer. Because they had been searching for one another, even if they hadn't known it until today. And that chance meeting on the escalator at the mall three weeks ago was all they needed to get to this point. And from the music washing over them from the boiling hot car's speakers, to the driver yelling at them to tone it down, everything was perfect.

"Missed you, Q."


	237. Taxi

**Taxi**

Rachel's umbrella had long since give up, and she was soaked as one taxi after another passed her by. This week could not get any worse. First the fiasco in class with the fireworks (how was she supposed to know that sparklers could, in fact, set off a smoke alarm?). Then their new puppy Anaklusmos had chewed a hole through her favorite cow slippers. She'd gotten into a fight with Santana that morning, been an hour late to school because she had forgotten her music, spilled her lunch on the escalator, and now, to rub sand in the wound, it was raining.

"FUCK!" she yelled as a taxi sprayed water and dirt all over her.

Another pulled up just in front of her. "Where you headed?"

She got in, told him the intersection, and prayed he didn't get a flat tire. All she wanted now was to be home, kissing and making up with her girlfriend.


	238. Kiss

**Kiss**

Santana stared down at Beth. "Wait…what?" she asked.

"You heard me," the ten-year-old said as they watched Quinn and Shelby argue over which movie to watch. "What's the plan? You can't just ask her to marry you. It has to be a production."

"Q doesn't like being the center of attention. You know that."

"I said a production, not public," Beth said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Sparky," she said with a grin. She knew Santana hated that nickname.

"What do you suggest?" Santana asked quietly.

"I don't know…be creative. You're the artist here. Tell Beowulf to bring her her slippers, and have the ring box tied to his collar. Or buy some of that glow in the dark craft sand and spell it out on the beach at night."

"You've been watching Lifetime movies with your mom again, haven't you?" Santana asked.

"That's not the point," Beth said primly.

Santana grinned. "Hows about this, Baby B… I'll come kidnap you on Saturday, and we'll plan something out."

"Here for it."

"Work."

* * *

"Okay, what's going on?" Quinn asked with a smile as they rode the escalator back down to the lobby.

"What do you mean?" Santana asked. She took Quinn's hand, leading the way out to the street. The taxi was already there, and they ducked inside out of the cool night air.

"We just had dinner at my favorite spot, and you didn't complain once in the whole hour and a half about the 'crunchy rabbit food'. What did you do, Lopez?"

Santana laughed as the driver took them home. "Nothing. I just thought it would be a nice surprise after a stressful week."

"You're so sweet," Quinn said, kissing her cheek.

"Let's keep that on the low."

The blonde laughed and snuggled closer to her girlfriend as the car made its way through the still busy streets.

When they made it back to the apartment, Santana pulled Quinn onto the couch with her. "I have another surprise for you," she said, picking up one of the remote controls.

"What's that?"

"Remember how you've been saying I should get back to composing?"

"Yeah…."

Santana clicked on the sound system, and music filled the living room.

"Is that you?" Quinn asked excitedly, hearing the smooth sound of a cello coming through the speakers.

Santana nodded. "The first on the new album."

"Really?" Quinn asked. She tackled Santana into a hug. "Baby, that's amazing! I'm so proud of you! What's the album called?"

"A Love Like Ours."

"I like it," Quinn said, smiling. "What's this song called?"

"Will You Marry Me?"

Quinn paused and stared at Santana, who was smiling. "San…."

"Will you marry me?" Santana asked again, taking the ring box out of her pocket this time.

Quinn let out a chuckle and planted a searing kiss on Santana's lips. "Yes."


	239. Escalator

**Escalator**

It was like trying to run up the down escalator, Brittany decided as she and Rachel cuddled that night. Maybe you got a few steps ahead, but you ended up going nowhere. For the past six months, the four of them had been trying to work things out. Now, Quinn and Santana were in the living room, trying desperately to figure out a way to keep them together. It had been about an hour since Brittany and Rachel had declared Operation Separation, and no one had stopped crying yet. But Brittany, at least, knew that this was for the best. She and Rachel had been trying so hard, but the other two didn't seem to want to put in any effort.

Usually, they'd stayed out later, hoping Santana and Quinn would have their shit together by the time they got home. And a few times, they had. Brittany and Rachel had come in one evening to the two women making dinner, music blaring and singing along to Sandcastles in the Sand.

But then there had been the fight at the beginning of the week. Wine glasses, slippers, random books had all gone flying, and Santana had taken off in a taxi around two in the morning. It seemed like anything could spark a fight these days.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" Rachel asked.

Brittany kissed her. "I know we will. One day…."


	240. Sand

**Sand**

It had been a long, grueling drive, but they were finally here. Santana pulled into the parking lot and looked around. The beach stretched out before her, and she smiled, relieved to have made it. "Guys, we're…." She trailed off, noticing her wife and kids asleep. "Here."

"San?" Rachel said, opening her eyes.

"Made it to the beach," she said, leaning over to kiss her.

"Weren't we just in Oklahoma an hour ago?" Rachel asked, chuckling.

"Sure, sounds about right," Santana said with a grin. "Let's check into the hotel, then we can see if the munchkins want to go play in the sand for a while."

It took a while, but they managed to get the twins out of their car seats without waking them. They rode the escalator up to the lobby (which was really the first floor for some reason) and Rachel waited as Santana checked in.

"Hi," Santana said to the girl working the desk. "I have a reservation for Lopez."

"Santana?"

"Yes."

"Staying one week, checking out next Friday. Everything seems to be in order. Oh, and we've upgraded your room, since it's your first time in Corpus Christi," she added with a smile.

"Thanks!"

"Here are your room keys. Breakfast is from seven to ten, and we have a cocktail hour at five with live music."

"Thanks," Santana said, taking the keys and returning to Rachel.

Their boy, Gendry, had woken up by then and held his arms out to her.

"Hey there, sleepy bat. Rae, we're in 206."

"That's one of the suites, though," she said, lifting their daughter up. She woke up then, but snuggled closer into Rachel.

"Free upgrade," Santana shrugged.

When they got to the room, Gendry squirmed out of her arms and ran to the window. "Where are all the taxis?" he asked.

"Not in New York anymore, little guy."

His sister had climbed onto the couch with the hotel's brochure on activities. "It says there's a fireworks after dark!" she said, peering at Santana from behind her glasses.

"There are. We'll have to go down and see after dinner tonight."

"Look, Gendry."

"What, Arya?" he asked, looking up from where he was tossing his slippers and bathing suit out of his bag, trying to find his Gameboy.

"This place sells sparklers and three scoop ice cream cones!"

"Oh god, just what they need," Santana said. "Sugar and fire."

"Right, munchkins," Rachel called. "Into your bathing suits – we're going to the beach!"


	241. Dragons

**Dragons**

Quinn had been the most nervous to send Benji off to Hogwarts. Santana had been the proud one – overjoyed that the stories from her childhood were true, and best yet, her child got to experience the reality of them. Still, it had been a sad day for both of them, putting him on the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

Now it was the last time they'd do it, and they both had to look up to see his face. He was tall and handsome and a powerful seventeen year old wizard.

"Be good," Santana said, hugging him as the kids moved to get on the train.

"I always am," he said in his thick British accent. He was the only one in the family who sounded like he was from England.

"And…be safe," Quinn said.

"I always am," he repeated, chuckling. "What's wrong? I'll be back before you know it."

"We know," Santana said, throwing an arm around Quinn's shoulders.

He grinned at them, and tossed his bag over his shoulder.

They watched the red dragon on it disappear through the train's doors.

"Do you think it's true?" Quinn asked. "That the TriWizard Tournament is coming back?"

"You know it is."

"He'll sign up."

"But he might not be chosen."

Quinn gave her wife a look.

"Right…."


	242. Obsession

**Obsession**

Santana clicked the TV off and stood in front of it.

"Hey!" Quinn said indignantly. "I was watching that."

"I know you were. That's all you've done all weekend, is watch River Monsters. You're turning into a couch potato. We're going out."

"Just let me finish this ep—"

"Nope! Your twelve step program starts now."


	243. Cellar

**Cellar**

It was Santana's favorite room in the house. It had been the one stipulation she'd had. Rachel got to design the rest of their obnoxiously large and opulent home, but Santana got this one room.

In reality it was a large cellar. On one half was, as Puck called it, her "man cave". The other half had about fifty barrels in it. A wine cellar – small, but epic enough for her.

"Right, teach me," Rachel said, taking Santana's hand.

"What's with your sudden interest in wine?" she asked, leaning down for a kiss.

"Nothing…it's just…you go to all those fancy wine and cheese parties…it would be fun to go with you."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that picture the paparazzi posted yesterday?" Santana asked, grinning. TMZ had caught her leaving a wine tasting next to an extremely attractive blonde supermodel and had, of course, speculated a thing or two.

Rachel snorted. "Please. If I was worried about you hanging around pretty blondes, Quinn would be banned from the house. No, I'm simple expanding my horizons," she said with flourish.

Santana rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. "Right. Let's start you off with something sweet. If you end up liking reds, I'll owe Kurt fifty bucks…."


	244. Injury

**Injury**

Santana moved the sheet. She winced, looking down at her…where her leg used to be. She heard the door open, and sat up as her commander came in.

"At ease, Marine. How do you feel?"

She shrugged and looked down. "It doesn't hurt right now."

He nodded. "We're sending you home. But I'm sure you already knew that. You should make your phone call. You're on the next plane out of here."


	245. Prison

**Prison**

Santana had done well so far, staying out of everyone's way. She figured the next ten months wouldn't be too bad. Hard work. Don't fuck with anyone. Don't do any favors. Stay the fuck away from Crazy Eyes….

"It won't work, you know."

She jumped, hitting her head on the top of the dryer. "FUCK!"

"Sorry. Here, let me look."

"I'm fine," Santana said, backing away from the tall girl in glasses. "You're Vause, right?"

"That's me," she said in a singsong voice, looking at Santana's head anyway. "Looks okay. No blood."

"What won't work?" Santana asked finally.

"Trying to be the lone wolf. I tried that. Fucked around and got put in SHU for a fight that I'd tried my damnedest to stay out of. It's better in here with friends."

"So you're saying you want to be my friend?" Santana asked skeptically.

"Sure. In a manner of speaking," Vause said, winking and going back to folding clothes.

The next ten months were either going to be epic, or hell.

* * *

**_LbN: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to check out the new poll on my profile!_**


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